


On Days Like These

by EthanolRabbit



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Awkward Romance, Cutesy, Determination (Undertale), Dominance, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Light Masochism, Painful Sex, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Rape, Reader Has Issues, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Sans Has Issues, Sans Makes Puns, Sans has fangs, dedicated, determinationtomakethisstorygreat, fangs, split personality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:01:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EthanolRabbit/pseuds/EthanolRabbit
Summary: What kind of loser can lose a pet rock? After spotting a poster for one; you are left pondering that very question - and you're not left pondering for long: in this world now shared by monsters and humans you thought you had your little niche life until a lazy un-punny skeleton shows you how easy (and dangerous) making friends can be with a couple of bad jokes and some really good times - and you're determined to out-show him. [this will be a fluffmountain with a thick black smutty core]





	1. Missing!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I am going all out in this story - I appreciate feedback on how to make writing in second person more fluid as I haven't written this kind of perspective before. I'm doing this as a tasty treat for all those Sans lovers! I'm in it for the long haul :D

With a huff you flick your hair out of your eyes again - damn it must be a state by now - and you stretch out your back before, once again, picking up the splintered handle of your best buddy Broom; every evening it's just the two of you clearing up after everyone else, sweeping away hairballs and dust bunnies.

What a romantic prospect.

You can hear soft chirps and mewling from further down the shop, the fluffy and feathered residents settling down for the night - you'd finished cleaning all the pet enclosures about an hour ago (... an hour after closing time which is also when you stop getting your hard-earned pay) and you let out a tired sigh, wanting to just curl up and sleep too.

After another fifteen minutes you chuck the broom in the store cupboard, finally mustering enough resolve to just head the hell home. You grab your threadbare tartan parka and fling the furry hood over your head, fastening it tight and brace yourself as you attempt to open the pet shop door -

As you open it a smidgen, a spiteful burst of wind grabs it and hurls it open with a clatter, practically dragging you with it. You can feel biting snow flick against your face as you strain to rummage for your keys, actually get out of the doorway and close the damn shop.

You manage to slam it shut with a shuddering bang, momentarily empathising with the animals inside, and turn into the wind - you only live around the corner but this is not going to be easy.

Wrapping your arms tight around yourself, you bow your head and push through the unrelenting gale, grumbling about how winter is apparently ending sometime this week. Fat bloody chance: ever since the Underground and all its residents become part of the known world it seems that every winter is just that little bit longer.

It takes about ten minutes for you to slip into the little alcove sheltering the front door to the block of flats you live in, the wind howls nastily behind you almost trying to reach in and grab you - cat and mouse.

You hurry inside.

It's warm and toasty - everyone must have their heating on full. You manage a small smile knowing you won't have to put yours on since you're near on the top floor - money's tight so any chance to scrounge, right? You shake any clinging snow off in the hallway and head up, ready to grab some hot chocolate and snuggle in front of rubbish telly.

You've been looking forward to it all day - it's the small things you need to focus on when times are a little rough.

Usually falling asleep is a breeze - except when you've got a gale-force "breeze" shaking every window frame in your building. You grumble, pillow over your face and repeat the routine 'sutra of hard times' in your head:

_Cheap rent. Good location. Cheap rent. Good location. Cheap rent - leaky pipes. Good location. Cheap - wallpaper._

...

You reassure yourself that it's just the weather getting you down - spring is meant to be right around the corner.

Pulling the covers tighter, you roll over, letting your pillow fall to the floor. You think back to a programme you had seen on Discovery a while back about the alterations to the Earth's magnetic field: that they had changed with the crumbling of the barrier and consequently Mt. Ebott - it had been four years ago and the ripples from the massive event had died down in the media and in society but apparently Surface physics are still adjusting to the outpouring of new atomic laws - hence more extreme weather.

The monsters were helpful in figuring out why the seasons had fluctuated worldwide and several spokespersons from their faction expressed genuine concern for the effects on humankind.

Seems like monsters were a nice bunch of considerate people, in the beginning.

You sigh, knowing that unfavourable encounters between the odd human and monster are now as regular as bog-standard human crime. In your point of view it's just another thing to worry about. You used to hope that maybe the introduction to what humans thought was fantasy would make society better somehow - unite people, open minds...

It didn't happen.

At sixteen years old; you were pretty naïve back then. Better keep your mind focused on the real world - the one you live in. The one where you have a decent(ish) living: you make some money, you live on your own, you're independent... You're an adult making it in a less than ideal world just like everyone else. And monsters too.

********

"You're late." Mr. Geller states, eyes small beneath an irritated heavy brow. You never know if he is actually annoyed since his face is always the face. Literally - you've not once seen it change in your two years working here. He used to scare you but now you see him as a bit of an enigma.

"I stayed extra yesterday - I didn't get out till dark." You try smiling to cover your own irritation, one or two customers in the shop already.

Mr. Geller's beady eyes roll and he looks sidelong at you "That was your choice. You don't get paid after five." He somehow frowns more "And you don't get paid for being late."

Your smile goes but you hold in your argument (being that he is a grumpy old prune who has no soul) and you turn away, opening the cupboard and resisting the urge to just chuck your coat in, grabbing Broom and beating the old git with it.

The crappy encounter gets you down for a while but after going through your morning routine with the animals - feeding the peeping budgies, the skittish kittens and tubby rabbits - you find you feel determined to make sure the grisly sour prune-face doesn't keep hold of your mood.

So you decide to defy him in the best way you know how - by being the fantastic hard-worker you are. And it feels great because it's the one thing he just can't argue with.

You serve customer after customer - the small store is buzzing every Sunday - and you pamper all the animals with love, care and attention. You beam at every customer that leaves, almost each of them complimenting you on your service and demeanor.

If someone like Mr. Geller decides your day is going to be bad, you just have to turn it around. It may seem trivial to some people but to you: every time is a victory.

As you poke your head out the front door to wave at sweet old Nancy (a regular customer who definitely overfeeds her cat or has twenty of them, you're not quite sure) you decide to check over the noticeboard on the store window.

You take a couple of out of date flyers down - one is for puppies for sale last week, another offering a pet-sitting service over Christmas (wow, that was definitely an old one) and... You notice a crinkled bit of paper and your heart sinks when you read the dreaded word in bold writing:

" **MISSING** "

Just as you're scanning the heartfelt passage about how this beloved pet disappeared just a few nights ago you see the picture... And let out a sarcastic laugh.

It's a rock. A rock sitting on a bed of hay with... Sprinkles? Yes, that's what they were: a bowl of sprinkles nestled next to it.

"Hilarious." You mumble and rip it down.

 


	2. Good Times I

As it’s getting later in the day you’re out back, throwing out some rubbish into the alleyway. You look up and out of the concrete square penning you in and are surprised to see a clear sky, staining slowly with a far off sunset – and the wind is a lot less nasty than yesterday. You sigh in happy relief – maybe you could sleep for more than a few hours tonight? Your smile widens a little when you remember that tomorrow is your day off and the idea of a lazy morning makes your heart practically swell.

Mr. Geller must have noticed the extra spring in your step when you start stocking the shelves before closing because his voice erupts from behind the counter.

“-------!” he barks your name “Did you sort out the noticeboard this morning?”

You peek up over the shelves, unwilling to leave your task as to actually get out on time for once “Yes! I always do it, Mr. Geller.”

“Would you please explain to this customer why you took the poster for their missing pet down, -------?”

You wince momentarily at his long drawn out tone – he is definitely pretty angry. As you go to put your armful of items down to face this customer who… Wait a minute: the poster was for a _pet rock_. You roll your eyes and turn down the aisle hands poised on your hips ready to have a go at the dumb joker who put the sign up.

The customer is a monster – unusual since you barely see any in this town and have no regulars who are monsters either. You inwardly grumble: guess monsters like pulling jokes as much as stupid kids.

You barely give him a second glance and pointedly tell both him and Mr. Geller “I was clearing up the board – we’ve got no room for silly posters about missing pet rocks.” You huff, feeling more justified as you carry on “There are people who may actually have a pet that’s gone missing and we don’t need your rubbish cluttering up our board!”

Mr. Geller’s face doesn’t soften… Did he not hear you or something?

“-------, paying customers have the right to put up whatever notice they wish.”

“W-what?” you splutter.

The old crook folds his arms and looks over his thick glasses at you like he is telling off a child “What’s more, who’s to say the pet rock is from the Surface?”

You hadn’t considered that rocks could be so vastly different in the Underground and have some sort of sentience… You feel yourself turning a little red – had you really made a big mistake?

The customer had been quiet up to this point, hands in his hoodie pockets, leaning back against the counter. He was regarding you with what looks like a sarky grin.

“I did actually get that rock from the Underground – he was the runt of the litter, not as lively as the rest,” he grins, nonchalantly shrugging “but definitely the boulder of the bunch.”

You’re not sure if he is being serious and start to speak when Mr. Geller cuts you off –

“Go get that poster and put it back up!” he raises his voice, straining to seem somewhat professional “And once you have done that, give Mr. err –” he glances at the monster – the skeleton in trackie shorts – and fumbles.

“Just Sans.” He nods and then glances at you, stilling smiling like he is in on a joke that you’re not. You feel your heckles rise and you frown – you and Mr. Geller are being duped.

“Right,” Mr. Geller continues “After that, please give Sans a voucher for his next visit, hopefully soon when your pet is found, sir.” Mr. Geller – always one for customer service where money is involved.

You’re already walking away before he’s finished. You stomp through the shop, being a bit quieter as you go through the back room with the lively pets and then kick the dumpster outside as hard as you can.

“That asshole….” You growl, peeking over the rim of the dumpster. You pull your sleeves up “Not as lively as the rest… Jeez.”

You rummage for around ten minutes – having to move bags of rubbish from the adjoining restaurant and launderette that share this alley with the pet shop. Finding the poster you’re tempted to bundle it up and chuck it in a soggy puddle on the ground and feign innocence – you know that joker is having you on with that stupid smug grin.

But you’d rather just get Mr. Geller off your back and with a defeated sigh you hop out of the bin and dust yourself off – you’ll have to put your stained jeans in soak before washing them since there’s bolognaise sauce slathered across your legs.

“Ugh…” you groan.

You head in and hear the two making small talk at the front of the store. You grit your teeth as you notice that the smug skeleton’s voice just always sounds like it’s on the verge of a punchline.

That is going to get annoying very fast if he’s now going to be some regular.

“I hope that joker never finds his stupid rock.” You mutter darkly before rounding the corner and going out the door, slapping on as neutral a face as you can manage – you put the flyer back up on the board practically horizontal in a spiteful gesture.

You hop back in and behind the till – Mr. Geller has excused himself, probably heading out before close as usual – and fish for a £5 voucher, leisurely taking your time as you do so, keeping your head tilted down. After a moment you annoyingly realise the grinning monster is waiting patiently.

“You know,” his voice drawls and you stifle an irritated grumble, refusing to look up – you found a voucher straight away but stalled with the intention of somehow annoying this jerk by wasting his time. Now that he’s decided to talk you regret your decision “My rock really is from the Underground – and they’re made from the same stuff as up here. So even though he’s nothing special, guess I shouldn’t have taken him for granite.”

 _Is this guy serious…?_ You stare back at him, unblinking and a little too shocked to realise how pissed off you actually were with this joker. How can Mr. Geller believe this guy?

You wordlessly pass the voucher over to Sans. He takes it from you and smiles wider “Thanks, kiddo.” His eyes meet yours and he raises a bony brow “Didn’t mean to put you between a rock and a hard place.”

After a second you realise he means getting you in trouble with your boss. You keep a stern expression and fold your arms “Thank you sir – that is a nice sediment. However, Mr. Geller may be a little rough around the edges with an abrasive personality,” you look at Sans pointedly, playing him at his own oh so _not_ punny game “But you’ll get to know him if you’re going to be a regular.”

_A regular pain in the ass._

Ooh – another victory for you! You trumped grump Geller this morning and now you’ve put some snotty prankster in his place!

You’re wearing the smug grin now – but it slips right off your face when Sans lets out a chuckle and seems delighted.

“You’re pretty quick,” he smiles.

 _Hmm not just a jerk – a patronising one._ Feeling outraged you gesture to the door “We will be seeing you around, _sir_.”

Sans tilts his head at you and seems a little deflated. He watches you dismiss yourself and hears your grumbling as you head out of sight towards the back of the shop.

Pausing a moment more, he shrugs – thinking that perhaps people are not as monster friendly here as they are in bigger cities – and leaves, taking down the missing poster on his way.

***********

“Damn crappy customers…” you huff as you roughly pull off your coat, rain dripping onto your hardwood floor – there is the noise of a stitch popping and you spot a small hole now smiling at you from the seam at your shoulder. You just stare at it, your frown almost growing to swallow your face.

Your day hasn’t ended well after that arrogant skeleton – Mr. Geller left early but will no doubt be rant-ready first thing on your day back; one of the rabbits had caught your arm with a less than playful clawing; the cash count at the register was out every time you counted it until you just flung it all back in and locked up (more ammo for the old crout) and the weather had turned into a downpour soaking you through as you slinked home.

Slumping onto your once cream coloured sofa, you flip on the television ready to unwind…

Your phone jingles rudely. You grunt dismissively and ignore it; snuggling down under your fluffy throw blanket printed all over with foxes. Whatever programme you tuned into is just ending and an advert pops up – you can’t help but scowl.

“Coming soon to a town near you,” a brash narrator bellows “The Underground classic that’s become a Surface-wide success! Grillby’z!” there’s a lot of fancy fire effects and some interviews with happy customers – monsters and humans alike.

Not in the mood for anything that reminds you of that dick from today, you tune out the advert and distract yourself by finally giving your phone some attention – the screen glows with Heather’s name you immediately feel guilty and rush to reply.

Heather is a bubbly girl a little younger than you and you became friends when you helped her move in down the street (you saw this tiny girl struggling to unload a moving van all on her own and since you can’t resist helping helpless animals… It was basically the same thing) and you see a lot of yourself in her – struggling to get a grip somewhere in this world on your own was hard for you, as it is for many others, and you figured sticking together is the best idea.

[ **Heather:** I haven’t seen you since last year! We should do something – wanna head out?]

You scoff, knowing you could not be any more reluctant to even entertain the idea of leaving the damn sofa.

[ **You:** I know it’s been ages. Just been keeping my head down, you know?]

It’s a bit surprising that you’ve left it this long to even talk to her – you don’t chat often but when you do talk and bother hanging out it’s always a really great time. Maybe you should push yourself to get up and do something?

[ **Heather** : Hey! Answer my question!]

You roll your eyes – Heather is being pretty pushy for someone who prefers the company of DVD box sets and instant noodles.

[ **Heather** : I think it would be great to just go somewhere! Are you working tomorrow?]

…

[ **You:** I’m not working but I don’t feel like it.] Your thumb hovers over the send button. You feel bad – maybe she has been as cooped up as you? Who else would she ask to hang out with? And the answer is the same as yours: no one.

You erase and type again.

[ **You:** Okay okay you’ve twisted my arm :P Where to?]

***********

So here you are standing in a small queue of people waiting to get into this shady bar – the front entrance is lit up with pink and blue lights and boldly states ‘Good Times’ above the towering double doors

“This sure is… Brave.” You try and sound at least a little positive.

“We need to put ourselves out there and meet more people” Heather’s arm is linked in yours and she has a determined look on her face. You quirk an eyebrow but decide to try to not rain on her parade – she has a point.

“We won’t get turned away or anything? I dunno if I’m the usual type.” You can’t help adding “And neither are you.”

The freckled girl shakes her head, her eyes bright and hopeful “-------, this is one of those bars that let’s anyone in! They’re all over America and Spain and I guess the UK is finally following suit!”

A burly monster is standing behind you – very _close_ behind you – and you realise that this is one of those bars where literally anyone is allowed. You have no problem with it, you’re just curious about how it would work…

“Is there like… Decent security?” you crane your neck to try and spot anyone in uniform or whatever it is night club security wear.

There’s an angry rumble behind you.

Heather carries on, unaware “Of course – every bar has security! Why would you ask?”

“Yeah, little girl,” a gruff voice pitches in “Why would you ask?”

The pair of you turn and glance up at the towering bulk of a monster who has been listening in on you both. Your throat runs dry and your spine feels like a spike of dread.

The monster’s small yellow eyes are flaring underneath two big sweeping horns “Think us monsters are going to cause some sort of trouble?” he growls “Like we’re a bunch of animals?”

“Uh- no! That’s… That’s not what I meant…” you stutter – it really wasn’t what you meant; you were just as worried about humans than about monsters and the two being together in this sort of environment seemed to just scream disaster.

Seems like you may have started said disaster.

As you take a breath to steady your voice, ready to attempt an explanation a familiar irritating drawl butts in –

“Hey Tim, everything okay over here?” Sans has stepped up next to Heather and is looking up at the beefy brute with a casual smile. You spot the bar logo in pink on his black jacket and inwardly groan.


	3. Good Times II

“Yeah Sansy, just these two squirts talking ‘bout us monsters being troublemakers.” Tim gestures towards you and Heather with a dismissive wave of his claw.

“Ah, they’re new here – probably not used to seeing big studs like you around, eh?” Sans chuckles.

Enraged that this jerk just _has_ to be here – just _has_ to be the one to butt in – just _has_ to be the security you were looking for: you pull Heather away and start walking away from the queue despite her protests.

“W-wait! -------! It’s fine that big guy just misunderstood!” Heather pleads.

You grunt “It was a stupid idea to come out somewhere like this. There’s no one but assholes around.”

Heather manages to slip out of your grip and she puts her hands on her hips with a frown “We didn’t even go inside! How do you know without even trying?”

You brush your hair out of your eyes and huff in frustration “Look, I was going to tell you: I didn’t feel like coming out anyway so…” you see her expression soften and now you just feel selfish “So… Why not just get some pizza and watch some anime or something?”

Heather seems to ponder your offer for a second but then shakes her head with renewed vigour “Now listen -------.” She waves a finger at you (what is it with you getting told off today?) “You got me out and about when I first moved here and that must have been hard work! Hanging out at home is fun but we should meet more people. Let me pay you back the favour by taking you inside here and getting the first few rounds on me?” she smiles at you and gestures back towards the queue which is beginning to snake “What do you say?”

You rub your neck and look at her and then the queue – you were going to be out here for probably half an hour now and you can’t help but feel responsible. You give a reluctant nod “Alright Heather… Let’s go.”

She beams at you and takes your arm again and the pair of you head toward the back. Just as you settle behind another pair of girls (these ones clearly dressed to impress) Sans appears beside you and nods towards the club entrance “You girls were near the front of the queue so you can just head inside.” His smile seems warm but you turn your nose up at him.

The pair in front glance back at you and angrily mutter amongst themselves, infuriated that you and your friend – you basic normal types – are being offered entry before them.

Heather notices the two snidey girls and raises her voice slightly as she claps her hands together, grinning at Sans “Why _thank you_! We are most grateful!” she hugs your arm tighter and you end up stumbling after her as Sans leads the way.

“Whatever you said really riled Tim up,” Sans says casually looking over at you being dragged by your friend “You worried about monsters or something?”

Heather scoffs “Of course not!” she answers for you “Humans and monsters are people – but people are all trouble.”

The bar music is getting louder as you approach, receiving curious and jealous looks from onlookers in the line beside you.

“Couldn’t agree more.” You state flatly, refusing to look at the cheery skeleton.

Sans’ smile falters a bit “Well you’ve got a point there err-”

“I’m Heather!” she beams and pulls you more into view as you reach the front doors “And this is -------!”

You grimace and offer a sarcastic wave. That’s all he’s getting.

Sans grins at the pair of you as he gestures for you to go in “Nice to meet ya both. I’ll see you inside.”

***********

Good Times bar has been open for a few weeks and is always buzzing – there had not been many monsters living in the area initially but more and more were moving out of the bigger cities into the quieter areas, governments across the globe organising better transport for commuting workers and setting up integrated human-monster communities.

Bars, clubs, restaurants, cafes, schools – everywhere had been monster friendly for a few years now and your town had followed quite slowly after. Getting used to it all had been easy since most countries were forward-thinking in this day and age – but you had heard stories: hate crimes, violence and even a few bouts of genocide had happened here and there across the world – both humans and monsters to blame. You didn’t blame any race in particular just people in general – almost everyone could be trouble in one way or another.

However, here in this bar – it seems like any sort of trouble is a million miles away and soon after your first cocktail thoughts of murder and vandalism are distant and far gone.

“First time here and we get our first round of drinks free!” Heather gushes as she comes over from one of the two crescent shaped bars that ring the large grandiose room. She settles the glasses carefully on the clear glass table you are seated at and plops down next to you in the plush bean-bag padded chairs.

“This isn’t shady at all” you murmur looking around – high ceiling, bright blue and pink lights and two floors above you… Your head spins a bit.

Heather laughs, sipping her drink “What made you think it was shady? This place is great!”

She isn’t wrong.

The two of you chat about work and how dull the last few months have been since you last saw each other and after a while you begin to feel the happy buzz that everyone else around you is enjoying – that and a couple of drinks were warming you to the idea of staying out late tonight.

You had seen Sans making the rounds as well as a couple of other people in the same uniform, a few humans and one or two monsters – the logo of the bar had the name and a pocket watch motif on the front and back of the security jackets and the glasses you were given had the same logo in a holographic etching at the bottom. You inwardly shrug, surprised that this snidey monster is working for a pretty decent establishment – and everyone here looked a chill and laid back as him.

Heather is having a great time and her bouncy mood even gets you up on the dance floor with her – she looks stunning in her casual frilly dress and you smile as you see a couple of patrons giving her sideway glances. You don’t think much of your get up – tights, shorts, sneakers and a long sleeved distressed jumper but you feel more at ease when you notice similarly down-dressed individuals.

You secretly smirk at the thought of those two hoity-toity classy cows who were jealous of you and Heather getting in – those two definitely don’t seem like they would belong here despite the glamorous set up.

“Alright missy,” you shout at Heather over the music “you’ve gotten me a few drinks now – what do you want?”

“Same again please!” Heather twirls and jazz hands in your face before giggling and hopping back over to your table.

You laugh and head over to the bar – the lights underneath the sparkling black countertop fading between those signature blue and pink colours – and lean up on your tip toes to try and spot the barman.

“Looks like you and I have the same problem.”

You wheel around and see Sans standing on his tiptoes as well right next to you, he then gestures to the barman who just walks past “We get overlooked.”

You make a deadpan expression and roll your eyes, pointedly looking toward the barman who is finishing placing some bottles on a shelf a little ways past you.

“Gee, haven’t you got a short fuse?”

You growl and glare at Sans, practically barking at him “Dude – what is your problem?”

Sans blinks seemingly confused “What, is your funny bone broken?” the barman passes by, placing a glass with copious amounts of ice in it next to Sans’ open hand. He grabs it and takes a sip of whatever drink is inside “I’m just trying to break the ice.”

“Ugh! Listen you sleezeball,” you begin, rage stacking up inside you a lot faster with the help of a little alcohol “You busted my balls at work, patronised me and embarrassed me outside this club. All in one day” you go to shift further down the bar and attempt to grab the attention of the damn barman “For someone so short at least I don’t look down on other people.” You finished pointedly.

The barman spots you and gives you a cheeky smile and when you mention you’ve been trying to get his attention for five minutes you’re pleasantly surprised when he offers you a free drink.

This place would be so much better if that skeleton would just back the hell off.

You glance back to where Sans’ was standing and notice he’s gone.

Maybe you can carry on with your night in peace.

You grab your freebie and Heather’s drink and rush back over to her, she looks at you with a little concern.

“You okay, -------? You were gone a while.” She glances around “It may be busy but I got served really quickly each time I went up there.”

“Ah it’s because you’ve got your _kawaii_ charm on point tonight.” You tease – the pair of you watch all sorts of shows together and you know she’s an avid anime die-hard.

“You betcha I do” she giggles and then pulls a more reserved face “Are you… Having a good time? I know you didn’t want to come out…”

“Hey! Heather! Yes!” you almost splutter as you were taking a sip of your drink “I’m having an awesome time!” you clear your throat and look at her properly “I didn’t mean what I said – I just get into a rut sometimes where going out seems like the worst possible thing ever.”

Heather nods “Oh I know the feeling. Maybe we should just try and push each other more?”

You think about it for a moment and agree: it is definitely what you both need – since it’s just you two at the moment you have to be there to motivate each other and trumping over angry bosses or smug jerks isn’t all there is to be motivated about.

“So,” Heather shifts the tone and blinks innocently at you “What’s the deal with you and that adorable Sans guy?”

You frown and down your drink, taking your time to answer “He’s just some asshole who thinks it’s fun to get in the way of people in need.”

“What do you mean?”

“He put a poster up for a stupid pet rock that had gone missing.”

Heather stifles a laugh “So? Is it really such a terrible offense?”

You sigh, not wanting to put a downer on the night “Look Heather – I lost my dog last year. I put posters up everywhere.”

“Oh… I’m sorry-”

“No no” you wave your hand at her and force a smile “It’s just these sorts of things – playing a joke without actually thinking about it… It’s just not the kind of person I want to be around, you know?”

Your friend seems quite solemn after that and you both sit there pondering whether or not in may be a good idea to head home.

Sans is on the second floor and peers down at you for a moment, thinking if he should just cop out of his shift and head home too – he didn’t like getting the cold shoulder from people he was genuinely trying to make an effort with. He sighs knowing he will probably have to see you at the pet shop when he’s getting supplies next.

He frowns when he notices you hang back from the dancefloor, Heather initially begging with you to go with her until she gives up – and he feels determined to find out exactly what _your_ problem is.

 


	4. Good Times III

“Just go bust a move! I’ll be up in a minute!” You call out after Heather who is making her best puppy-dog eyes. You mean what you say; you just need a moment to collect your thoughts.

You watch your friend for a while until she is swallowed by the crowd and smile despite yourself – she has come a long way from the nervous little girl you helped just after you gave up looking for your dog. Maybe she replaced him in a way?

You hear yourself chuckle and reach for your glass, pouting when you see it’s empty – can’t dance without another pick me up.

“Here you go,” a man takes a sit beside you, placing a glass down near you with a clink making you jump.

You shuffle back and narrow your eyes at him “… Can I help you…?”

He’s definitely had quite a bit to drink and seems to look through you more than at you “Pretty lady like you needs to keep hydrated.”

You scoff “Sure and alcohol is not the way to do it. Excuse me.”

As you go to stand he steps in front of you and you bounce of his chest, feeling queasy as his beer-stained breath washes over your face.

“Why don’t you sit down and have a drink.” He isn’t asking.

“Look dude, I’m very flattered but I was actually just about to find my friends and go.”

He lets out a rough smoker’s laugh “It’s just you and your pretty friend. Don’t play games.”

You’ve had enough and push past him “Out of my way, asshole.”

“Oi you bitch-”

“Do we have a problem here.” Sans appears and steps between you and the drunk man, cool demeanour unfaltering but his words are stern.

You’re annoyed he’s butted in – again – but you keep quiet, not wanting to be the focus of any trouble.

The man clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets “Nothing at all, man! Just talking with this girl!”

Sans’ expression doesn’t change “Well she clearly isn’t a fan of your company so how about you go, hmm?”

Without another word the man is gone not even looking back over his shoulder.

Sans turns to you, relaxed again but not with the usual smug grin “Sorry to intervene. I saw him hassling ya.”

You feel a little awkward, fiddling with the hem of your jumper “Thanks.”

You only speak one word but it seems enough to make the skeleton smile widely “Good Times has the best security you’ll ever come across.” He reassures you.

“Yeeeeaaah! Best AND sexiest security!” a bull-like monster bellows nearby – he’s in uniform but has a serpentine beauty hanging off one of his burly arms and by the slight slur in his words you can tell he’s definitely partaking in the club’s namesake “I love you Sansss!”

Sans lets out a loud hard laugh “Hey big boy! Aren’t you meant to be on duty?”

The bull monster snorts “I was but you’re here so we can all take it easy!”

You’ve walked away and slipped into the bustling dancing crowd ready to find Heather and persuade her to go – this is Sans’ hangout, clearly shown by his good ties with everyone here. You don’t really want to be here especially since you’ve been so adamant about him being a complete jerk.

Basically you’ve got the idea that maybe you’re somewhat wrong.

But only somewhat.

You’re being jostled by all the bodies, human and monster alike while keeping your eyes peeled for Heather.

You bump into someone’s back “Ugh, sorry.”

All you get in reply is a snorting grunt and you chance a glance up – it’s Tim.

You stutter and go to make your escape when you feel his big clawed hand on your shoulder. Panic sets in and you’re just about ready to scream-

“Looking for your friend, right?” Tim’s gravelly voice carries over the crowd and music.

Blinking up at his towering form you manage a sheepish nod.

He wrinkles his snout before picking you up and placing you on his heaving shoulders – he was shaped like a big furry cloud “Can you see her?” he calls to you.

The view is much different from up here and you can see across the bobbing heads of everyone all the way to the glimmering sound stage, lasers and smoke coming from it. You shield your eyes with your hand and then you spot her – your ditzy friend in the arms of the barman.

“Oh.”

Tim’s shoulders rumble beneath you as he speaks again “You see her?”

“Y-yeah I see her.” You hesitate before asking this big beast you insulted earlier in the evening a favour “Hey Tim? Could you help me back to my table? I’m gonna leave Heather to her fun.”

The seemingly gentle giant complies and practically ploughs through the crowd and you direct him to your table careful to steer clear of his large dark purple horns – they look razor sharp.

“Did you find Heather?” You can just about hear that it’s Sans asking and you peer down from atop Tim’s shoulders before he bends low enough for you to hop down.

You straighten your belt and pull up your tights in an ‘unladylike’ fashion “Yeah I saw her.” You then manage a cheeky smile “She’s having some of those good times.”

Both Tim and Sans snigger and you turn to thank the big guy who offers you two of his claws in a makeshift handshake before he lumbers away to the bar.

“And here I thought you were hopeless at making friends.” Sans ventures, ready to gauge your reaction.

You sigh “Well between the rocky start with you and the terrifying run in with Tim I must say I’m surprised too.”

He seems pleased “So you heading home then?”

“I can’t leave Heather. I’ll just wait around I guess.” You smile politely and sit down.

After a moment of hesitation, Sans sits down too although with a nice comfortable amount of space between you – far from how close that creepy guy was from earlier.

The music is drumming away, your hands and feet tingling from the barrage of vibrations and you lapse into a thoughtful silence, looking around and watching all sorts of people having fun.

“So,” you begin, now feeling inclined to make small talk with this guy you’ve possibly been unjustifiably nasty too “How long have you been working here?”

Sans has his arms behind his head and his eyes look lazy – surely looking like security guard material at its finest “Since it opened. My brother and I moved here just after Christmas once I knew I had this job for sure.” He seems very happy mentioning they had moved – maybe they had come from a rundown home like yours and finally caught a break?

The idea makes you inwardly sigh, wistful of the day you too will be able to do more with your life than the most basic job and most basic home.

“What made you come out here tonight anyway?” Sans asks, tilting to look at you “You don’t seem like the going out party type.”

You cross your legs on your seat and ponder for a moment – you came out because you felt bad about abandoning your best friend for two months and felt like you owed it to her.

You decide to keep it light “I’m not working tomorrow so I thought I’d let loose.”

Sans chuckles “If this is you letting loose I can’t imagine how chill you are when you’re on a lazy day at home.”

You frown at him “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He raises his hands “Woah, woah – nothing wrong with taking things slow. I just mean compared to most people you’re super mellow.” He sees you’re still indignant and he points to the crowds “You’re not out here getting drunk off your face and causing trouble. It’s nice to meet someone who likes to take things easy. All of my friends here – they’re all hot heads and it can be hard to find common ground.”

Looking back over you see Heather dancing with a small group of people and realise that maybe she is a bit more outgoing than you are now that she’s found her place in the world. You feel a little distant seeing your friend having such a good time without you.

Sans carries on, nonchalantly pulling out his phone as he talks “It’s nice to spend time with people who are different – it’s good for you – but common ground amongst people is hard to come across.”

“So you’re saying that we should be friends because we’re both short and like sitting on our asses?”

“Yeah, that’s the long and short of it.” He grins at you.

You can’t help but let a smirk slip “Dude, why puns?”

Sans shrugs “’Cause you can use them like an effective weapon, anytime and anywhere.

You laugh “Hmm well so long as you’re not punning down pedestrians in the street I guess it’s harmless.”

The two of you laugh and find a genuine comfort in just sitting there, watching everyone else. You think back to how angry you were with him and feel a little guilt creeping on up.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a dick.” You state bluntly.

“Don’t sweat it kiddo – sometimes I try too hard when I meet people.” Sans smiles apologetically “Guess I come off pretty arrogant.”

“Pfft yeah!”

Sans gives an apologetic shrug before glancing at his phone again. He stands and seems to hesitate.

“Are you off to do your rounds again?” you ask, a little down at the prospect of waiting for Heather alone.

The skeleton gives you a sideways grin and an off-kilter salute “It’s almost midnight and what we like to call the ‘bitching hour’ – this is when any trouble brewing is most likely gonna boil over.”

You pout a little and nod “Alright then – catch you later?”

“Sure.” Before he turns away he speaks pointedly with a cheeky wink “I’ll be keeping an eye out for ya, don’t worry.”

Then he’s gone.

You feel a little indignant – you don’t need to be looked after… But it’s nice to have made some sort of friend and one who has helped you out twice you realise.

Soon Heather comes bounding out of the crowd and wraps you in a hug saying how she is dying to introduce you to some friends she has made. You go along with her trying to keep an open mind and friendly smile but you make mental note to try and properly thank Sans – and possibly apologise too. Maybe.

 


	5. Talking Shop

Grumbling, you nuzzle your pillow – your face is wet and you sit up with an unflattering snort, seeing a patch of drool under where your face had been. You run your hands over your face and rub your eyes – what time is it?

You blearily reach for your phone on your bedside (surprised you somehow put the thing on charge before crashing out last night) and sigh when you see it’s early afternoon.

_Damn…_

You’re just about ready to head back to sleep when your eyes focus on the top right corner of your phone screen – two messages. You flip them down and see one from Heather full of smileys and exclamation marks (you smile as you can tell how much of a good time she must have had from her emoticons alone) and then another from… An unknown number?

_Did some sleezebag get my number last night?_

A wave of dread puddles in your already tight tired stomach as you wrack your brain about yesterday – the creepy guy? The one that tried coming on to you… Maybe he had somehow persuaded you to give him your number – you know that you started knocking back drinks with Heather’s new friends in a bid to somehow impress.

You inwardly scold yourself for being such a prude – _impressing with alcohol? Really?_

You open the message and stare at it:

[ **+00**:** you weren’t kidding when you said you were going to let loose last night.]

You feel violated – that jerk Sans must have gotten your number when you were completely out of it: a super dick move for someone you almost thought of as a sort of friend.

[ **You:** so this was your plan all along? Wait for me to have a few too many and snatch my number? Wow. You’re just like that creep that tried it on with me.] You type into your phone hard, angry that this guy could now bother you whenever he wanted.

Chucking your phone back onto the bedside table you stomp off to the shower, determined to wash away any thoughts of that asshole for at least a moment of clarity (as well as the smell of alcohol) and get started on reclaiming back what is left of your day off.

You come back in to your dishevelled bedroom wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, turning your nose up at your phone as you start brushing and drying your hair – you have another message but it can wait. He can wait.

Although you are curious about what he has to say.

And the longer you leave it the more frustrated you get until you just grab the damn thing, ready to block him from your phone entirely – even though you want a chance to really grill him about how much of a dick he is.

[ **+00**:** Heather gave me both your numbers before you left – said you were moaning about not having a chance to say sorry to me.]

…

[ **You:** … Sorry.] You type slowly; feeling a little embarrassed jumping to conclusions again and remind yourself that Sans had actually helped you and Heather out last night with Tim and you with that creep… You find yourself waiting for his reply, a little worried that you might have lost a friend before even really making one.

There’s a buzz and his reply pops up:

[ **+00**:** i’m the one who’s sorry – you got well acquainted with both Jack and Daniel so you must be rocking a hell of a hangover.]

You can’t help but giggle.

[ **+00**:** and I don’t mean to wine but with you that plastered all my jokes were met with a chorus of booze.]

You laugh some more and decide to get one in yourself [ **You:** Vodka you on about? A funny guy like you could never get shot down.]

The pair of you carry on joking for an hour or so – you’re still wrapped in your towel and your bed covers are now more damp than your half-dried hair. As you break away from the punfest, big grin on your face, you remember that you haven’t eaten a damn thing yet.

You pour yourself some cereal and start chopping up a banana when you pause – all that you can think about it how appealing it is.

You giggle some more.

********

Mr. Geller is right on you like an alligator on a baby “…….! You didn’t bother cashing up the other day,”

“Morning to you too, Mr. Geller.” You smile as broad as you can and proceed to put your stuff away in the store room.

Your boss barely takes a breath between his rantings “I walked in to a filthy store, unstocked shelves and spent the first hour of yesterday morning doing your job of cashing up left over from Sunday. Either you left early or just bummed around for the last hour.”

You don’t argue and get on with your routine – rickety old man isn’t getting you down today you decide.

Throughout the day you keep yourself busy since not many people have time to come in during the week and this left you a little bored – Mr. Geller exaggerates to the extreme on a lot of things and he left you alone after you caught up on the “tons” of work you left, which left you twiddling your thumbs by lunchtime.

Cleo, a fluffy little troublemaking cat that frequents the shop, purrs and paces up to you as you feed her some dry treats. You used to wonder if she had owners but without a collar and after three weeks of visiting shelters, putting up flyers and advertisements you and Mr. Geller decided to keep her here. She even went home with the old grump sometimes.

You can’t help but smile and glance down the length of the shop to see him smiling to a mother and daughter – he really isn’t all that bad and takes care of you as much as Cleo in his own weird old-person way.

Mr. Geller catches your glance and waves you over, retaining his customer-only smile.

Cleo meows and pitters after you as you make your way down, greeting the customers with your warmest smile “Hey there! What can I do for you?”

The pair are here to adopt the daughter’s first pet – “A budgiagar!” (or _budgerigar_ you figured) and you feel just as excited as the little girl to show them all the sweeties you had – you take enormous pride in all the pets you take care of and it made it all worthwhile when you knew you were giving them to a good home.

Soon the mother and daughter leave, all smiles and waves – a roomy cage in tow as the girl clutched the small travel box with all the tender care she could muster.

After saying goodbye you can’t help but think of your own pet for a second and it’s enough to wipe the smile from your face.

You sigh and turn to tidy the noticeboard.

“That was the tweetest thing I have ever seen.”

Sans is there, leaning near the shop door, his carefree demeanour and endearing comment make you forget the lapse in your mood. His hoodie jacket is open (probably because the sun is actually gracing the town with its presence for once) but his hood is up – a little weird but so were monsters in general. You notice a logo for a monster band “Heavy Hitters” on his black shirt.

You greet him with a grin “Hey! Yeah, wasn’t that little girl adorable? Nothing better than knowing hard work pays off.” You glance down as Cleo squeezes between your legs and you scoop her up.

“I wouldn’t of said this job suited you, y’know.” Sans says coolly as he reaches over and strokes the cat’s head.

You raise an eyebrow “And that’s because…?”

He chuckles and his eyes meet yours “From first impressions: you’re quite the hot-head.”

Your nose scrunches in a mock scowl and you huff, turning away from him “Hm, well that’s what first impressions are – just impressions, not fact.”

Cleo hops out of your arms and deftly lands on a rabbit hutch you have on display outside.

“Well it’s a fact that you were officially part of the ‘bitching hour’ the other night.” You hear the skeleton jibe and whirl to face him.

You feel just a little horrified “I couldn’t have been that bad, surely…” you bite your lip as he just nodded in reply and you groan “Did I make a fool of myself?”

Sans shrugs “Not any more than everyone else.”

You pout, his answer not comforting you in the slightest. Folding your arms you scuffle your feet and impishly decide that you may as well offer your late apology in person – feeling that the text you sent yesterday isnt good enough “I’m sorry if I put you out that night… And for jumping down your throat yesterday when you messaged me.”

Sans cocks his head to the side, brow raised.

The pause between sentences lasts a little longer than expected and you clear your throat feeling a little more than a bit awkward – maybe your apology in person isn’t good enough either?

You glance at the noticeboard – the work you are supposed to be doing – and frown, noticing the flyer for San’s rock isn’t there. You look back at him about to speak –

“I uh… I took it down.” Sans gestures to the board “I thought about what you said and you were right – I didn’t think about anyone else when I put it up there.”

“But… Your pet rock is from the Underground.” You know it was a prank but you don’t want to just outright accuse him – you’ve done that a few times already and have been wrong every time.

“Ah yeah but it’s like I told you – it’s made from the same stuff as Surface rocks.” He looks apologetic and smiles sheepishly at you “I lost it when we moved here and didn’t have the heart to tell Papyrus since he actually bought it for me.” Sans let’s out a guilty sigh “So he ended up slapping flyers all around town last week after realising Rockington had disappeared.”

You let out a snort “Rockington?”

Sans laughs “Yeah, cute right?”

“Adorable.” You smile “So Papyrus is your brother?”

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool – and then you’ve got me who can’t even bring himself to tell him I lost the stupid thing.” The monster rubs his neck and his smile seems a little strained.

You go about tidying the board “Well thank you for taking it down anyway – I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

Another silence – just the rustling of paper as you pull an advertisement down for another petshop somewhere (cheeky assholes).

“So do you need anything?” you decide to speak if to only rescue yourself from Sans’ odd choice of conversational pauses.

“Well actually I was thinking of getting Papy a pet – sort of distract him from the whole Rockington going missing-“

“You mean you wanna hide the fact you lost it.” You raise and accusatory eyebrow, giving a stern look – this guy is quite the softie but a major cop out.

Sans stutters and then sighs defeated “Yeah… Exactly.”

You step past him and back into the store, beckoning him inside. Sans follows and waves at Mr. Geller as you pass. You don’t show it but you’re excited to show off all your animals – they’re all cute, loveable and well-cared for; rabbits are groomed, birds are mostly hand-tame and kittens have glossy fluffy coats.

With a twirl you face him once you reach the centre of the pet room and you gesture around you “What’s your brother like? You have to pick a pet that suits him.”

Sans gives you a wide grin, your energy is quite contagious “Papyrus is larger than life and a cool dude” he snickers at some in joke and steps over to where the rabbits are, bending down to be level with the glass enclosure “He’s hard to describe to someone who hasn’t met him – he’s one of a kind.” A big brown rabbit is sprawled lazily against the glass, fully stretched out with its fluffy feet splayed behind it.

You ponder his words “Hm… So you haven’t given this much thought? You know… Getting a pet – a real one – is a big deal.” You squat beside him and his eyes look over to you as you continue “You need to think about it a lot more – you can impulse buy things like cars, gadgets and clothes but not animals.” You pauses and watch another rabbit snuggle against the brown lazy one “Not lives.”

Sans is watching you intently and you shy away after a moment, clearing your throat and standing back up.

“So maybe give it some more thought?” you offer.

Sans stands and looks at you sidelong, hands in his pockets. He seems to be mulling over your words “You do a lot of that, don’t ya?”

You blink “Hmm?”

“Thinking – thinking about everyone else.”

You twiddle some of your hair between your fingers, not quite sure what he is getting at, and shuffle your feet uncomfortably “I don’t know…”

With a genuine smile, brow furrowed with intent, Sans gestures at you “You don’t think about yourself much, am I right?”

“Err… I like my lazy days at home to myself…?” You don’t know what he’s trying to say and just look at him quizzically.

Sans shakes his head and rolls his shoulders as if shrugging off whatever he was getting at “I’ll definitely think about it.”

You manage an appreciative nod and the pair of you head back outside.

The sky is tinged with a bit of pink as the mid-afternoon rolls in, the darker nights of winter still hanging around, the air still a little nippy. You take a deep breath and stretch your arms above your head – a yawn escaping too.

“You doing anything after work?”

Sans is looking at the sky when he asks you and slowly meets your gaze, his expression a nonchalant lazy smile.

“I… I was just gonna go home. I’m pretty tired…” You say before you really think about what he said. You catch yourself and look away from him, feeling a little shy – you didn’t really know him and the idea of putting yourself in a situation that involved socialising and making effort seemed bothersome… Not that you had tried making that sort of effort with anyone at all recently (minus Heather’s friends the other night, not that you could remember any of them anyway) – and that’s when her words replay in your head “We need to put ourselves out there! – How do you know without even trying?” and you remember her introducing you to the friends she made…

“No worries then, kiddo.” Sans lifts a hand in a carefree wave, turning to leave “See you later?”

“S-Sans hang on a second.” You blurt out and notice him sort of snap to face you. You hesitate and clear your head before speaking “It’s sort of my routine to just go home and crash…”

“Heh, mine too.”

You continue “But I know I need to do more to make friends – can’t do it from home, can I?”

“… So you want me to meet you when you finish?”

“Uh… Yeah. In three hours – is that okay?”

Sans shirks his shoulders lazily and nods “Sure, see you then.”

You feel a little weird about just meeting with him so you decide to give yourself an actual palatable reason “We can talk shop – pet shop!” you call out as he walks away.

He lifts an arm in a thumbs up and carries on down the street.

 _Ugh I should put myself out there a little less, I think._ You chide yourself.


	6. Fangtastic

Realising you didn’t exactly want to head out anywhere in your work clothes, you have attempted to text Sans a few times but Mr. Geller noticed how long you’d been “skiving” and is watching you like a crooked old eagle. Too bad he isn’t a blind one…

You’re awkwardly shoving everything into the store cupboard, in a hurry to be out on time.

“In a rush, ……?” Mr. Geller pries, polishing the counter in slow circles, seemingly amused by your haste “You left early the other day.”

You bite your tongue and take a breath before replying “I’m sorry about the other day, Mr. Geller. I’ve just got plans afterwards, that’s all.”

The old man is quiet as you start to quickly stock the shelves, almost tripping over the box full of rat toys. His eyebrows knit together and he lets out a conflicted sigh “You can go, ……. Just pick up the slack tomorrow, alright?”

Blinking in surprise, you cock your head at him – _seriously?_

The crotchety grump manages a smile and gestures towards the door.

You don’t wait an extra second.

*******

Once you’re out, coat half-on, you whip out your phone, flipping to Sans’ number which you still haven’t put in your contact list yet.

[ **You:** I got out early so I’m heading-]

“Heya.”

You almost walk into him – Sans is standing there with an impish smile and you crook an eyebrow “I… Was just messaging you to say that I got out early,” you carry on walking, Sans joining you at your side “I’m popping home to change – I smell like a barn.”

“Hay now, don’t insult yourself.”

You manage a sneer and give him a playful shove. After a little while of walking you realise that he couldn’t have known that you had finished early “Er… Sans – how did you know I got out early?”

There’s… A knowing grin? Spread across Sans face “Just a hunch.”

You’re not satisfied with his answer and remain quiet hoping he would elaborate.

He didn’t.

After a few minutes you round the corner and see the alcove above the front door to your flat block. As Sans steps into the foyer after you, you’re unsure whether to invite him up or not.

“Uh… I’ll be five minutes.” You hop up the steps before you really think about what friend-etiquette should have been applied.

 _Oof…_ You hadn’t ran up these flights of stairs for quite a while and feel embarrassed by your red cheeks and heaving chest – next time you note to just make Sans wait instead of rushing for him…

_Hm… Next time?_

You blink the thought from your mind and slip into your flat…

And slip straight back out – a big fat black spider smack-dab in the middle of your front hall had been there to greet you.

_Fuck._

You are _not_ dealing with that. Heck there’s a man – a monster – downstairs; he can sort it out.

You lean over the banister and call out “Sans? Get your ass up here, code black!” you are determined to sound cooler than you were feeling, the knowledge that the fat spider could be crawling all over the place flustering you to no end.

Your skeleton in shining… blue jacket…? Is up in a flash – pretty darn quick you note; no sweat, no panting. A monster thing, you assume.

“Code… Black?” Sans looks puzzled, smile small.

You point to your door “The most amounts of legs I can handle are four. Would you kindly?” you gesture a little more exaggeratedly at your doorway.

Scratching his head, Sans steps forward, glancing at you before opening your door – the spider hadn’t moved and stood, all eight shiny legs steadfast – and your heart drops when you notice Sans’ face pale.

“… You’re not a fan of eight-legged freaks either?” Your hopes seem dashed.

Sans coughs, trying to regain his composure “Well it could be worse…”

“Sans. It’s standing there issuing me some sort of damn challenge. Brave little hairy bastard…”

He chuckles and winks at you “At least it isn’t a recluse.”

“Damn it, Sans.” You whine and slump against the banister, pouting.

Sans proceeds to bend down and cup his hands around the creepy thing, holding them closed tightly “I’m not scared like you humans are,” he drawls as cool as a cucumber, and you shy away from him as he exits with the spider, walking toward an open window in the corridor “I just owe them a lot of money.”

“Wh… What?”

He releases it outside into a flowerbed fastened onto the windowsill and waves a hand dismissively “Long story.”

With your home reclaimed, you invite Sans in and he plops down on your couch – you’ve gotten the lazy laidback vibe from him so your less-than-tidy home doesn’t embarrass you too much (beside your bedroom is the worst and he won’t be going in there so there’s no reason to worry about it).

…

“It’s not a bad size for one person,” Sans attempts to make small talk while you rummage in your bedroom – from hearing him so clearly; you realise you left the bedroom door open and quickly mumble a reply before closing it “It’s not much but it’s home.”

You grab a pastel blue fleece-lined pullover, tucking in the hood strings to hide the chewed frayed ends, and one of the pairs of black leggings that didn’t have any holes in the seams. Catching a look at yourself in the mirror you grumble – your hair could do with a wash.

Pfft – you slap it up in a half-ponytail (out of sight out of mind right?).

As you exit your room you see Sans flipping through your music collection, your CDs in a series of stacked boxes near your television – he spots you over his shoulder and points towards one of the CDs.

“These vinyls are pretty small – I didn’t see a player anywhere.”

You frown, confused “You’ve been out from the Underground for like four years – surely you’ve seen a CD?” You watch him open the case and look at it while you slip on your red high-tops.

“Paps and I lived in a more… Monster-based area. Not many humans to be seen.” He speaks with carefree ease but it seems calculated “We all had vinyls in the Underground – so CDs are just smaller?”

You stand and stretch, choosing not to push with your curiosity “Well a lot of humans say vinyls sound better – more crisp or whatever.” You grab your coat off the sofa “I’m indifferent – music is music, right?”

Sans nods and puts your collection down then marvels at your television “TVs are so big up here too.”

With a sheepishly smile you choose to divert the conversation – the TV is an old _old_ present from your dad back when you were considered the “prodigal” daughter “Yeah, everyone’s got one. C’mon, let’s make like baby and head out.” You jerk your thumb at the door.

That elicits a surprised laugh from Sans and he joins you as you both leave.

*******

“So what does your brother do for work?” You ask, sipping your hot chocolate.

Sans beams – you notice that whenever he’s talking about his brother he always has a warm smile on his face “He’s the mascot for the local university football team – the Motoran Dragon Riders,” he talks just as much with his hands as he carries on, chuckling “He dresses in this big red dragon costume, has a small flamethrower in the head too – it’s pretty awesome.”

You can’t help but laugh “Seriously? That’s so cool!”

“I know right? Suits him to the letter.” Sans winks.

You roll your eyes – such a fluid pun. Such a bright and funny guy, despite his laziness. Somewhat charming too.

…

You quickly carry on the conversation “How hot must it get in there though? I can’t imagine how it will be in the summer.”

The skeleton opposite you gestures to his body “Paps is a skeleton like me – we don’t really have to worry about that sort of thing.”

“Hmm… Guess not.” You feel some possibly rude prying questions assemble in your head and before you can think about polite etiquette one of them slips out “Do you eat?”

Sans’ brow lowers and he gives you a deadpan look, as if you should know.

“…” you wait for an answer.

Seeing that you genuinely have no clue – and how in the hell would you anyway? – Sans softens his expression “We don’t have to – skeletons I mean. Papyrus eats like the world is ending each damn day” he laughs endearingly.

You feel a little jealous; this relationship you are peeking into sounds so genuine – actual sibling love.

Sans happily continues, oblivious to your slight distraction “For me it’s more effort. I have to be in the mood.”

You eye the cup of black coffee that Sans had ordered, steaming away in front of him and give him a curious look.

He picks it up, mouth opening a little as he takes a long sip – you scold yourself for peering under the bottom of his cup to see if the liquid spilled anywhere and as you check yourself you think you saw two white… Fangs?

Sans gives a satisfied sigh, mouth closed before you can search again, and shrugs “I’m in the mood for coffee most of the time.”

“Yeah – your coffee is so black it’s like sludge!” you are quick to speak, hoping he didn’t notice your prying eyes – he’s a monster (and a skeleton) and you feel a wave of guilt that you are treating him any different just because of that fact. Your shame makes you determined to double your efforts of friendship.

“We didn’t have any way of growing the stuff needed to make coffee, or most things for that matter – a lot of plants in the Underground withered and died when we tried.” Sans speaks matter-of-factly but you can sense a slight strain.

“It must have been so stifling…” You mumble before you can stop yourself.

Sans grunts and takes another sip of his coffee – definitely an affirmative on that.

You don’t give yourself a chance to look for those enigmatic fangs and rest your head in your hands, soft fleece of your sleeves warm from cupping your drink, and turn your gaze out the window – it is practically dark outside, the warm light from the coffee shop setting the frosty pavement outside on fire against the blue chill of the street and buildings around you. Clear nights like these always look so pretty.

“- maybe be seeing you?”

You snap your head back round, meeting Sans lazy expression “Hmm, what?”

He shakes his head and sniggers “You weren’t kidding when you said how tired you were.”

“I just sort of lost myself for a sec –“ you rub your face and take another sip of your hot chocolate, the warmth starting to ebb “What were you saying?”

Sans takes his time before answering, watching you and then rests his head on his hand “Good Times is having a half-price night this Friday and I’m working the whole weekend – if you and Heather are out again I’ll maybe be seeing you?”

“Ah well…” again you feel the same hesitation you always feel when the chance to make plans and go out arises – you’re steadily getting more annoyed with yourself each time.

His eyes are half-lidded, looking like he is on the verge of dozing.

“Sure.” You answer although definitely _not_ sure “I gotta catch up with Heather but if we go I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Cool. Gotta make sure I’m there to keep an eye on ya.” Sans shoots you a toothy grin and a wink.

_Yes. He has fangs._


	7. Oh You Punny Kipper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are these chapter lengths? There are times where I could write like 100000 pages and others where it seems to end naturally pretty early. Any preferences please let me know!

“We are totally heading to Good Times tonight!” Heather is basically speaking for you at this point “You’re gonna get in some nice sparkly getup and I will be your wing…girl?”

Raising your hands as if calming a bouncy yapping puppy, you plead for her to lower her voice, the nature of your conversation possibly grabbing unwanted attention (but it’s more the fact you are carrying some extra-potent paranoia).

Heather carries on regardless – you suspect that she’s being oblivious on purpose “Cute little daisy dukes will _definitely_ grab his attention,” she gives you a sly-cat grin and flutters her lashes “The attention that isn’t already on you, I mean!”

“Heather” you hiss “Just come back from the speed of damn light for two seconds!” you lean forward, your words coming through gritted teeth “I don’t really want to pursue this… If there even is a ‘this’ to pursue!”

With a deadpan look that could kill, Heather rolls her eyes and gives you a patronising pat on the shoulder “Firstly – there is a ‘ _this’_ : Sans brought you to this adorable café last week and now you’re a regular! –”

“I’m not a –”

“And even if there wasn’t a so completely obvious ‘this’,” she embellishes with big dramatic air quotes with her hands, colourful midori bangles jingling along “what the hell do you have to lose? He’s told you quite a bit about himself – that’s a clear sign a guy is interested by the way – and he’s already taken you out! – _another sign, woman!_ – and he swooped in to defend you against that guy at the club – do you need anything else!? – and then –“

You groan and fling yourself out of your chair, whirling away and stomp over to the counter, grumbling under your breath – you didn’t sign up for any drama whatsoever when you decided to go out to Good Times for the first time with Heather: you offended big beefy brute Tim, made a moron out of yourself in front of Heather’s friends, were a complete jerk to Sans… You put your head in your hands and rub your temples.

_Being a recluse seemed so much easier…_

_Hmm… Recluse…_

Through your frown you giggle despite yourself, remembering Sans’ joke when he was at your flat…

Your eyes widen – you haven’t told Heather about that.

After ordering another moltenly delicious hot chocolate; you vow to never tell her (seems she has enough ammo to grill you with as it stands already) and attempt to casually return to the table.

A lump forms in your throat as you see her eyes narrowing at you as you approach.

“So… How’s Bella and crew?” you attempt a tactical divert – Heather had made bunch of friends on your last time out together and one of them you remember being very similar to Heather: a rabbit monster girl. All night the pair were inseparable.

Heather’s eyes brighten – bingo – and she claps her hands together “She’s going to be at the club tonight!”

… _Goddammit._

She bouncily carries on “Bella is bringing a few of her girly friends so we can take the chance to expand our friendship territory!”

“Err, Heather – this isn’t some kind of battle.” You laugh.

Her blonde pigtails bounce indignantly as she scrunches her nose at you “You’re right – this is a war! Only the strongest get themselves out there and get friends! And we are strong!”

Your cheeks redden as you spot some other patrons definitely looking over during Heather’s emblazoned prattling, but you can’t help a big grin “Okay, okay lieutenant –”

She doesn’t slow down and points at you “You gotta pick up your part of our bloodpact –”

_B-blood…pact?_

“– and seal the deal with Sans.”

“W-what?” you blink up at her.

She wiggles her finger at you and gives a big over-exaggerated wink “Think I’d let it slide, missy? You need to work on being proper buddies with that adorable skeleton – he could then help us expand the friendship battalion!”

“…” your cheeks flush with a little anger this time and you are just about ready to walk out “C’mon Heather, I think we will get you something other than coffee next time.”

Heather frowns at you “If you don’t like Sans then how come you know so much about him after seeing him two times?”

You scratch your head “Eh?”

“Like… All you’ve spoken about is how him and Papyrus moved here recently – that his brother has a job as a mascot – how grateful you are that he was there to help you out at Good Times – how much you wanted to apologise to him even though you already have…” she shrugs “It’s just basic math to put it all together – and I haven’t even mentioned that you’re always on your phone!”

“That could be anyone…” your argument falls flat before you even say the words – as sad as it is: who else could it be?

But Heather doesn’t press.

There’s a strained silence and you sip at your hot chocolate, wanting to just leave.

“…….., I’m sorry. I guess I just get a little overexcited. I am so… So happy that we have finally taken a step into meeting people – into doing more things together – and Sans seems so well-rounded, sociable, funny… A real gem in the rough, you know?”

You shuffle in your seat, fiddling with the handle of your half-full glass.

Heather smiles at you warmly, reaching over and placing her hand on yours “I want you to be happy – it’s been so long since we had real fun and I felt Sans was a big part of it.”

She is right, you know that full-well – you kind of figured that there was more that Sans did while you were drunk last week as well as what you remember when you were sober: he really did a lot for you and Heather both, all in one night, and that is without all the extra stuff you learned about him, all of which just added such a doting and loving dimension to him.

“I won’t tease you anymore though.” Heather interrupts your thoughts and she slaps herself on her wrist, expression stern “It wasn’t good of me to do it since we are both in new territory and I risk scaring you off of him before you even find your feet.”

“Well thanks… I did feel like it came out of nowhere.” Relief calms your raised heckles and you finish your drink more calmly.

Heather barely hides her smirk “Oh missy – it really hasn’t come out of nowhere, _but_ ” she clears her throat “I won’t be so childish in the future. Besides, I need you to be comfortable enough with me to share any… Developments.”

“Heather!”

********

[ **Sans:** yeah pap says he’d like to meet ya. despite having a whole uni full of monsters and humans who think he’s the bomb – he’s kinda bonely.]

[ **You:** *slow clap* literally four texts without a pun – I’ve got your Purple Heart medal ready.]

Snuggling on the sofa, you’re fuzzy and warm inside with your cup of mango fruit tea in your lap, remote in one hand and phone in the other – most evenings have been enjoyable at home (more than usual in your case anyway) and the routine has been regular: television and Sans until you fall asleep.

Heather decided to give you this night off (thanks, _boss_ ) and decided to “reconvene tomorrow morning at 0900 hours to further discuss stratagems”. You showered her with grateful sarcasm but felt pleased at her enthusiasm for the friendships she made and your flowering one…

You glance at your phone and reread Sans’ last message… And furiously type another reply:

[ **You:** Papyrus wants to meet me???]

The programme you are watching drabbles on but you’re not really paying attention, holding your phone tightly so when it vibrates you know instantly.

You don’t wait long.

[ **Sans:** heh yeah. I told him that I’d made some human friends and he’s always super excited to meet new people.]

_Sounds like someone I know._

Your phone buzzes shortly afterwards.

[ **Sans:** when you going out next?]

[ **You:** going out…?]

After you send the text you realise he could mean Good Times – you were going to go last weekend since Sans mentioned it was half-price all night, but you had to work a twelve hour shift from pre-open to post-close (Mr. Geller had a fall the previous day and had no cover so you volunteered) and you were basically snoozing the whole day afterwards. Heather had come over with takeaway and you lazed watching some of her boxsets like oldtimes (oldtimes meaning two weeks ago).

You start putting together a reply when Sans messages you back first:

[ **Sans:** I missed ya last week.]

You blink – “missed you”? You decide to play it cool:

[ **You:** aww I missed you too buddy! ;P]

 _Ugh maybe that was a little too cool…_ You scold yourself and anxiously await his response.

[ **Sans:** haha ok…?]

…

…

_Oh wait… Missed as in: he didn’t see me last week._

_Not as in actually missing someone…_

You bite down on your fist and give a wide-eyed stare at your phone, rereading his obviously awkward reply over and over again. With a panicked swallow, you type back desperately before thinking it through:

[ **You:** wait I didn’t miss you at all haha like I didn’t even think about you haha]

If you face palmed at that moment you probably would have broken your nose – but instead you emit a weird squeal through your gritted teeth.

_How the hell do I fix this – I gotta type something! I sound like a jerk!_

[ **Sans:** glad to hear it.]

 _Maybe I didn’t put enough damn ‘haha’s…_ You angrily growl at yourself and sit there wondering what to do, barely noticing that your jumper’s collar is soaked from your anxious chewing.

[ **Sans:** welp I’ll catch you later.]

Ouch.

********

You tried sleeping – you weren’t sure how to amend your mistake with Sans after it seemed so impossibly awkward, and your mind decided to remind you about how many times you’ve embarrassed yourself and been a bitch either to or in front of Sans. Sans: this happy, lazy ‘gem in the rough’ monster –

_Guy. He isn’t just a monster._

His good nature, your mistakes and hot-headedness and the fact you seem to keep categorising him all played in your mind for the whole evening until you decided to just shut it out with sleep.

And here you are – wide awake, staring at your patchy ceiling with your hand on your phone willing yourself to just… Just fix it.

But you do nothing.

********

Your phone buzzes and your bleary eyes crack open against the glare – the time is four in the morning and the message is from Sans. Taking a breath, you sit up and rub the grit from your eyes before daring to read what he could possibly text you after what you said – and at this time of night.

[ **Sans:** what did the ocean say to the other ocean?]

There are actually a few messages from Sans and your tired face relaxes with a relieved smile:

[ **Sans:** well actually nothing since they just waved at each other]

[ **Sans:** bad joke I know… but sea what I did there? I’m shore you did]

[ **Sans:** anyway kid - you can be a bit of a beach but it’s probably not on porpoise]

You sigh, happy that he seems okay although – he’s texting you ridiculous puns at four in the morning.

_What… What does that even mean?_

[ **You:** are you… feeling okay? You’re acting fishy] you reply tentatively.

Your eyes roam over his puns while you wait for his reply.

[ **Sans:** water you talking about… could you be more pacific?]

[ **You:** don’t act koi with me – little skeletons should be asleep at this time.]

Inside you feel gleeful; texting at silly o’clock in the morning about nonsense – your smile dwindles when you wonder what Heather would make of this… Best not to tell her.

[ **Sans:** paps is in bed already and little humans should be sleepin too so we’re both in hot water]

You could tell Sans was the older brother from the fondness of which he spoke of Papyrus and remembering it makes your heart warm a little in endearment.

[ **You:** get to sleep Sans before I send ya sleeping with the fishes!]

A yawn escapes you, the tension you’ve had all evening dissipating and making room for sleep to start steam-training to catch up to you. Your phone buzzes but you’re already beginning to drift and even though you read it, you’re soon snoring away.

[ **Sans:** oh yeah? Gonna come tuck me in then, kipper?]


	8. Give Me A Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really loving writing this! :D having a blast!

You have decided that Sans had not attempted any form of flirtation with you – he either made a similar texting faux pas like you had _or_ it’s just nothing more than his cheeky nature.

Still – when you read his text this morning your throat decided to practically close around your cereal and by extension your spoon. You sigh, reminded of the mess you will have to go home to after work – and to pick up some more cereal too.

Placing a pretty white-scaled goldfish back into its tank, carefully cupping beneath the net as it flip flops around, you sneak a glance for any customers waiting around – it’s just you again today as Mr. Geller still hasn’t fully recovered yet and Mick hadn’t turned up to cover him today (not that you’re surprised, lazy asshole) – and you see no curious patrons. You quickly wipe your hands semi-dry on your trousers and pull out your phone.

[ **Heather:** Hey missy… Sorry I didn’t keep my word for talking this morning. If I was hanging any lower I’d be in the Underground -_-]

A snort escapes you and you glow with an aura of a responsible adult as you reply.

[ **You:** some lieutenant you are! :P wanna catch up over dinner and a movie? :*]

While you wait for her reply, you take a moment to sweep over your messages with Sans – he had messaged you good morning as cool as an ice cube with no reference to his possibly-but-probably-not flirty text last night and you played along. You were mulling over what it could have meant and had forgotten about Heather’s demand – thankfully she hadn’t crawled out of bed till midday.

[ **Heather:** ooh it’s so a date! I’ll bring snacks! be round at six]

Another secluded evening planned ahead of you gives you the determination to buckle down and finish off your long lonely day.

Work hard, play a little, chill a lot.

********

“Knock knock.”

You jump up from behind the counter, a wad of money you were counting flies out of your hands and rains across the countertop and floor, falling mockingly slow like expensive, expensive leaves and Cleo pounces out from under a shelf and starts swatting the money out of the air.

You cry a little on the inside.

Sans looks like he’s feigning concern “Err… I did knock so…”

Pinching your brow between your fingers you take a breath in and out slowly – today had been stressful to put it lightly and being forced to put in so much overtime had worn your patience thin as a few customers had pointedly mentioned to you; even the mischievous Cleo had kept her distance from you till now. Your temper boils and even tonight with Heather is also starting to look like a burden.

“Sans. I’m busy right now.” You can’t hide the grumble in your voice – you also hadn’t even looked at your phone since you messaged Heather and frankly you don’t care. Going home is your only goal and right now everything is an obstacle – friend or no.

His smile doesn’t leave his face but his features soften and he looks at you… Caringly? “Would you like a hand?”

Your frown fades a little; you hadn’t expected him to offer to help you, and without hesitation too.

Sans smiles wider and holds out his hands “I don’t have any – but I’d give ‘em to ya if I did.”

“Pfft. Okay.” You hide your smile but it’s evident in your voice “C’mon then – you can start by helping me pick up all these friggin notes…”

“Sure, my help is free – plus shipping and handling.”

“Sans. Don’t you start –” you are just about to lay into him and release a day’s worth of bubbling anger when you spot all the scattered notes start moving on their own. Cleo freezes for a second before yowling and skittering away – the notes gather together and glide into a wad (even all facing the same way) and plop onto the countertop. Just like that. Like magic.

You stare unblinking at the bundle of tidy money in front of you and slowly half-turn to Sans.

He’s standing there like a proud brat with a bigger Pokemon card collection than all the other kids in the playground.

Straightening up, you narrow your eyes at the smug skeleton “… Is this why you’re so lazy?”

Sans’ expression drops “Wh-what?”

You gesture in an arc at where the money was scattered “You use magic so you can just be the big ol’ lazy bag of bones that you are.” You wink at him and teasingly rock on your heels mimicking his childish façade a second ago.

“Pfft… No.” he pouts and folds his arms.

“Put yourself to good use then – no pulling my rabbits out of hats though” you wiggle your finger at him and chuckle.

Sans frowns, endearingly indignant “Pullin’ rabbits out of hats? That some dumb human trope?”

“Oh!” You lean towards him “Can you do card tricks? All magicians can do card tricks!”

“Wh-why would… What?”

 _Oooh, winding you up is **fun**!_ Your mind gleefully notes.

You clap your hands excitedly “Pull a coin out of my ear! Or flowers from your sleeves!” you grab his baggy hoodie sleeves and shake them playfully.

Sans lets out a surprised laugh “Is that what you think magic is?”

“You’re a magician – don’t tell me you can’t do the basics, Sans.” You tease.

A sly smile spreads over Sans’ face “Your human magic basics are child’s play. Anything you humans could do – I’d be doing in nursery!”

You and Sans are standing a hair-breadth apart, competitive flair matching.

“Oh, them’s fighting words.” You purr

“Heh, yeah.” Sans’ playful tone carries something a little _more_ behind it; his baritone voice, so close to you, seems to resonate within your bones and you feel a drop in your chest – you don’t just hear a playful retort.

The goosebumps hit you so hard you shudder and falter.

_My knees feel… Wobbly?_

Sans dips his head to look at you, sly-fox grin gone “Hey, ……..? You alright?”

Taking a step back, you clear your throat, fold your arms (more to hold yourself together than anything else) and manage a level tone “Yeah. I’m fine. We gonna work or what?”

The skeleton shrugs and gestures for you to lead the way.

You attempt to regain your composure – thoughts practically falling over what just happened and the probably-flirty-but-possibly-not text from him last night – and you show him where the animal feed is kept so you can focus on polishing the glass enclosures.

Sans gets to work right away, pulling his sleeves up and starting with the fish first and you make sure you start with the rabbits on the opposite side of the room.

You two are working in silence for a few minutes, Cleo winding between your arms as you kneel on the floor and swatting at your cleaning rag, but she can’t distract you from the compulsion you feel to break this silence – and to steer your fumbling brain away from your racing thoughts.

“So have you had any more ideas on what to get Papyrus?”

“To be honest – I’ve no idea but I’ve thought about it a skele-ton.” Sans speaks casually, not emphasising the pun or pausing for effect. You imagine that with all the puns he makes some of them may actually become part of how he speaks.

_Damn. That’s kind of cute._

…

“A-ah, is that so?” you stumble “Well just don’t rush it would be my advice.”

“Rushing anything isn’t my style anyway” he chuckles “The problem is that I was planning on getting him a pet for his birthday, which is end of this month.”

Your birthday is also at the end of March on the 28th and you wonder how close yours and Papyrus’ are.

“Not much time then – what day?”

Sans is adjusting the step-ladder before he answers “We decided the 25th.”

“You decided?”

“A lot of monsters don’t really have birthdays – not many of us wanted to celebrate another year of being down there, you know?”

The sentiment makes you stop in your polishing and you glance over at him – he’s still working and you are glad he didn’t notice you look for fear of being seen to pity his kind; everyone has hardships and there is no use lending pity to those who have overcome them.

You refuse to let the sad notion get you down and carry on the conversation in a bright tone “That’s pretty cool though – being able to choose your birthday. When is yours?”

There’s a snicker before he replies “25th of this month.”

“You chose the same day?” you turn to him and he is looking back with a grin.

He shirks his shoulders and turns to start wiping the tanks where his … Skele-prints are from where he had been touching the glass “When we had to get registered for homes and whatnot we had to put birth dates down. Papyrus blurted out the 25th of March and I just went along with it.”

“Pfft talk about lazy.” You chuckle.

Sans shoots you a wink.

You stand up and dust your knees, shooing the pesky Cleo out of the room so she stops getting in the way (she has been restless since Mr. Geller hadn’t been in) and you grab a bundle of hay from the corner of the room, plopping it in amongst the eager rabbits, then you open a few tins of cat food and start distributing it to a chorus of yowls and mews – during this time Sans has moved on to the rats, hamsters and guinea pigs sorting out their feed and you can’t help but smile; enjoying the help and especially the company, and then you ask yourself: would you be enjoying Heather’s help and company as much?

 _I am just happy that I have a new friend who doesn’t mind helping me out._ You decide that this is the only reason and block out anything else – with great effort.

“Maybe get him something small?”

“I was thinkin’ that – our place ain’t small but we’d probably get charged out the ass for anything bigger than a whimsun.” Sans is stroking one of the rats that is still snoozing while the rest squabble over the food bowl.

“… What’s a… Whimsun?” You literally have no idea – did you hear him right?

“Oh right,” Sans laughs, putting the lid back on the enclosure and turning to face you “Sorry – Whimsun are these little monsters” he parts his hands about thirty centimetres “like really little.”

You frown “Your landlord is that strict? That would mean you would _have_ to get a small pet…” Then you shrug, keeping optimistic “Helps narrow your options though – little critters can be just as fun as puppies and kittens.” You glance at your watch “Right – I wanna get out of here before next year so let’s keep it up, eh lazy bones?”

Sans mocks a hurt expression “Your words cut me deep.”

He joins you in finishing up tidying products away, straightening stock and locking up.

“Why didn’t you use any of your hocus pocus to help out?” you ask, locking up the register – you had noticed as soon as Sans had pulled up his sleeves earlier that he wasn’t using magic at all while helping you.

Sans is leaning against the door frame, looking almost like he is dozing “Hm?”

You roll your eyes “Why didn’t you use magic?”

He lets out a yawn and you glance away despite your usual nosy intentions when it comes to his mouth “Gotta disprove this image of laziness ya got of me.” He chuckles.

“Well you’re gonna have to do more than that!” you laugh and gesture at him “You’re practically falling asleep and you’ve been helping me out for like two hours.”

“Heh.”

You grab your coat and then stop – “Sans, wait for me outside – I gotta grab Cleo, I’ll be like two seconds.”

Sans rolls his shoulders “Go ahead, no skin off my bones.”

Heading into the back room, as you click your fingers and call for the fuzzy little princess, eyes adjusting to the dark since you’d practically shut the store and all the lights were off, your mind takes the opportunity to pick up where it left off – questions and musings kicking up a storm: Heather was talking about all these ‘signs’ and how quickly you and Sans have become friends, you were always texting, he had sent a somewhat flirty message and already taken you out, you were helping him get a present for his brother, you’d noticed a few things about him that you liked –

_CRASH—_

Blinking, you slowly sit up – you’d walked into a mop and bucket that you’d shoved in a corner instead of actually putting away (Mr. Geller would be praising karma) and ended up flat on your back, mop water pooling beneath you.

Cleo pads up to you out of the dark, hopping onto your chest with her tail flicking in your face.

“Thanks for the help, cat.” You grumble.

“……..? You okay?” Sans calls.

Your cheeks burn red – there you go, embarrassing yourself in front of him again “Y-yeah! Cleo just uh… Knocked some stuff over.”

As if on cue, Cleo flicks her tail at you once more and then silently pads away towards the front door – she probably knows she is going home with you again tonight since it’s become the routine while Mr. Geller is away.

_Such a loyal pet…_

There is a slight twinge in your lower back as you sit up fully and you rub your face, sighing – this is exactly what you needed to top this hellish day off.

“… So the cat knocked it over, eh?”

You hesitate before peeking through your fingers up at the smug skeleton’s silhouette in the dark, your cheeks fiery and emblazoned – although he doesn’t sound too smug as you’d expect, holding a bony hand out to you.

Saying nothing and just averting your gaze, you take his hand and he pulls you up –

– and suddenly down again.

You’re on the floor once more except this time with Sans’ additional pointy bony bulk crushing and winding you.

“S-Sans!” you manage to splutter, straining against his weight – cold mop water further soaking your clothes.

“S-shit sorry…” comes his muffled response, he brings his head up and your faces are only an inch apart “I didn’t realise… Uh…” and he goes pale (paler?), his mouth half open in a sheepish grimace.

A little pointy tooth, just about visible, glints and catches your eye.

You’re not quite sure how long the pair of you marinate in the mucky water.


	9. Marshmallow Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so tired that I fell asleep in my dinner before. Anyone else had that?

Your face is burning and you feel like it’s going to melt right off – you’re practically cross-eyed staring at this lump of bones on top of you and right now your brain is tuned into static… Maybe it’s a coping mechanism: you tune out and lock up just like one of those fainting goats?

Sans is frozen mid-apology and takes a second before pulling away from you, chuckling somewhat forcefully “Wow kid ain’t you… uh… clumsy.” He sort of states his words, trying to smooth out the awkward kinks of the situation like a big bulky super-obvious iron.

You look up at him and force a half-hearted laugh, not quite trusting yourself to say anything for fear of further social discomfort. He tentatively offers you a hand again and you ignore it, getting up on your own. The slick cold of your shirt sticks nastily to your back and your temper twitches in annoyance.

“Just THE worst damn day ever.” You grumble, wringing out the bottom part of your shirt.

“Can’t say I enjoyed the trip either.” Sans quips with an air of caution.

His hesitation lends much to be desired and the joke falls as flat as you did just a minute or so ago but you appreciate his effort to alleviate the situation, giving him a smirk and an eye roll “C’mon, dude – let’s give this place the slip.”

His smile broadens and he nods at you, following you out of the store.

Outside, you finish locking up. Clouds have gathered promising a downpour and you pout, hoping it doesn’t catch you before you get home and Cleo meows her similar concern, brushing between your legs eager to get going. You glance at Sans and gesture down the road.

“You tagging along?”

Sans seems somewhat relieved as if he was expecting you to say goodbye right there – you really did just want to go home and crash out but after he helped you out you didn’t want to just cold shoulder him.

“Yeah, I’ll walk ya.” He zips up his hoodie front and walks alongside you, hands in his pockets. He speaks after a moment “Hope I weren’t a bother today when I popped in.”

Frowning you shake your head “No way – you helped me out majorly. I’d have been another hour or so at least if you hadn’t come along!”

The air is growing damp and you can feel the pressure of rainfall building, picking up your pace to keep up with Cleo impatiently padding ahead of you. Flicking your hood up, you peek out from under it at Sans and voice a question you’ve been pondering since he showed up today.

“So what made you wanna pop by?”

Sans casually shrugs “Well I wanted to see how you were doin’ – didn’t get to hang out last weekend and I heard from Heather that you’ve been workin’ a whole skele-ton so I’d thought I’d do a welfare check.” He turns and gives you a big grin.

Your heart warms a little, mood lifting a little and you smile back, not sure what to say.

He then cheekily adds “And I wanted to bother you some more about what to get Pap, of course.”

“You seemed to like the ratties when you were feeding them.” You reply, brushing your fringe which had grown static and dishevelled under your coat hood “They’re small, cute and smart. What about a pair of them?”

“I dunno. Papyrus is quite…” Sans fishes for the words and pauses “Er… Not heavy handed but… He’s very full-on.”

“Hmm… I think I know what you mean – a lot of energy?”

Sans nods and pulls a face “Oooh, yeah. Like a never ending barrage of fireworks.”

You smile, looking ahead “I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“… Heh.” You don’t notice how happy Sans is as he’s just to the side of your peripherals but he is glowing at your statement “Yeah. Wouldn’t trade him for all the coffee and ketchup in the world.”

********

The air is static between you and you can feel yourself almost being pulled into him – his eyes are level with yours, mouths a tentative few inches apart and you begin to drink in every detail of his face; a wave of fascination gripping you. His stark white cheekbones are smooth and curve up into his brow-bone, hollows of his eyes pitch-dark with two usually lazy pinpricks of light are alert looking at you, frozen in place – you want to reach out and stroke a hand over every surface, amazed at how his features (supposed rigid, bony features) are so fluid, so expressive so… Sans.

You want to know what makes him tick – how exactly Sans is able to be Sans. You want to get to know him properly – you feel like growing close to him is now a goal for you: Sans is this new person in your life, which is exciting enough – but he is more complex than just another person and these layers, these levels, these _dimensions_ to him – you want to see it all.

_BZZZT._

“Huh?” your eyes snap open fully, your head slipping off of your propped up arm, a line of dribble following your lip as you move.

“……..? You really tired, huh?” Heather’s voice confuses you for a second and you glance at her on the opposite end of the sofa. Her eyebrows are knitted in concern and she holds out a packet of marshmallows to you.

You take it and mumble a thank you through the fluffy treat. The television is actually blaringly loud and you realise you had sort of dozed off through it somehow – what you were thinking about rushes into your mind and you almost choke on the marshmallow.

“……..? You okay?” Heather leans over, dipping her head to look at you.

You wave her away and nod, finally swallowing the damn thing “Y-yeah yeah. Sorry. I’m totally out of it.”

She sighs “You’re telling me! You should of just said you were too tuckered out to have me over!”

You shake your head and rub your face, trying to wipe the tiredness (and invading thoughts) away “Don’t be a wally. I wanted you over.” You shoot her a reassuring smile “Just my work catches up with me sometimes.”

Heather smiles back and rubs your shoulder “Okay missy. If you’re sure.” She settles back into her fluffy blankets – her own Disney-themed throw she always brings with her when crashing at yours, fuzzy pink monster-feet slippers are crossed on your coffee table and she is holding a piping hot mug of hot chocolate with pearlescent unicorns decorating the cup – you can’t help but feel fuzzy and warm just looking at her and how cosy she is. It also makes you happy that she is so comfortable around your home as you’d expect friends to be.

_… Would Sans soon be following suit?_

…

You wipe the thought from your mind as soon as it enters and fish out your phone from between the sofa cushions, remembering that it’s buzzing is what woke you up earlier.

Heather makes a goading noise and smirks at you “Well that can only be one person.”

Sticking your tongue out at her, you look back to his messages and try to hide the quirk of a smile on your lips.

[ **Sans:** so comic sans helvetica and times new roman walk into a bar…]

[ **Sans:** and the barman says ‘get out or i’m calling the serif, i don’t like your type around here’ ;)]

[ **You:** guess he was just affonted]

“I saw that grin, woman!” Heather teases and chucks you a bag of chocolate raisins, unwrapping a lollipop for herself and lisping as she carries on teasing “Sho you gonna updahte me?”

“There’s nothing to update.” You shrug at her and start mowing through the bag, mouth full “Dohn’t know where you’re ghetting theesh crashee ideash from.”

Heather snorts a laugh “C’mon, ……..! Are ya not even intereshted?”

You giggle as she waggles her eyebrows at you and shake your head…

“… Hesh a… Bit of a charmer I guessh.” You mumble sheepishly.

Practically hollering victory, Heather pumps a fist in the air and shuffles up the sofa next to you fluttering her eyelashes. The lollipop is down and she means business “And why would ya say that, hmm?”

If she could look any more like a cat who got the cream you’d be surprised.

There’s a slight giddy feeling in your chest, like back at school when you used to have silly crushes and you can’t help but smile, feeling your warming cheeks almost touching your eyebrows in a look of pure gleeful guilt – and your smile widens just a tad more as your phone buzzes again.

Heather opens her mouth in a grinning gasp and props her head up on her arms, eyes big and gazing up at you as if you are about to share some fabled tale of old.

“I think he’s a nice guy.” You managed to say, putting the demolished bag of raisins down and laugh at Heather’s sudden deadpan expression and try to elaborate, skirting around the more major incidents “It’s like how you said: he’s a gem in the rough, you know?”

Heather groans “I know what _I_ said! I wanna know what _you_ guys have been saying!” she’s almost whining now.

“Hey. What happened to not teasing me?” You wiggle a finger at her and frown “You said you weren’t going to be childish–”

“I knooooow…” She pouts at you “But you just seem a little happier these past few days and I wanna hear all about it!”

You kind of want to share these giddy feelings – they barely registered at first but have become pretty solid, especially after texting Sans so much and hearing how doting he seems to be; he wants you to meet his brother, he’s come to you for pet advice and even turned up to see how you were handling the current burden of your job; then you have him bailing you out of trouble twice in one night when he didn’t really know you (three times if you count him making sure you and Heather got home safe) _and_ he had given you a bony hand at work with no hesitation…

_And rescued me from a spider._

You sigh contentedly, but there is a small niggling feeling of guilt reminding you that you’ve not exactly been anywhere near as good to him as he had been to you – he seems to be naturally good-natured and nice whereas you... Not so much.

_But I’m learning… Heather and Sans both are teaching me._

Heather clicks her fingers impatiently, now chewing through another lollipop “Woman! You were gonna shpill the beansh!”

And you decided to spill them all – the swelling of excitement in your chest just too much.

The rest of the evening is like a by-the-books girly sleepover: talking about boys – you feel like you’re fourteen again and the two of you talk for hours. You find out that Heather has actually planned for a date this weekend with a monster called Kevin; apparently he’s muscly, a complete dreamboat and has a pet husky – and you know straight away that the guy had Heather ready at husky, and you chuckle to yourself as she reels on about him… And Kevin.

“Honestly though, ……. – even if nothing happens between you and dreambone,” Heather giggles as you cringe at the word and then looks at you seriously “You’re my best friend and you always come first. I’m with you one hundred percent if you wanna pursue something with him and even if you don’t.”

“H-Heather… Pursue something? Uh…” you awkwardly shrug “I’m still messing up on getting friendship right! Besides… I dunno how I feel about a relationship in general at the moment.”

“All in time, missy!” Heather gives you a hug before settling on the sofa for the night – what is left of it anyway being as it is two in the morning.

You bid her goodnight and yawn as you slip into your bedroom.

Cleo meows and slinks out from under your bed, pushing her head against your hand as you lean down to stroke her – she always curls up beneath your bed when she is home with you and rarely leaves your room.

“Silly fluffbutt.” You coo, picking her up for a cuddle.

Plopping on the edge of the bed, you go to put you phone on charge – and suddenly remember that you hadn’t checked it almost all night. Cleo protests as you put her down, indignant at the short pampering session, and you swipe the screen to the messages.

It starts with his reply to your comeback.

[ **Sans:** nice one, kid.]

… And that is it.

You let out a disappointed sigh, your cheeks deflating into a pout – although: what are you exactly disappointed about? Sure, you and Sans have been texting regularly for about a week but sometimes you and Heather don’t text for ages, even months if your radio silence over winter was anything to go by.

There’s a niggling reminder of how lonely you were in those months although you’d never really admit it.

_BZZZT…_

[ **Sans:** hope you had a good night chillin with Heather. must have been fun since ya left me all bonely ;P]

The light gleeful feeling in your chest flutters to life as you re-read his message and you purse your lips as you reply, feeling like a cheeky teenager staying up late texting their friends.

[ **You:** oooh sorry about that. It was fun although I was face down in a bowl of marshmallows half the night…]

You reach down and stroke Cleo who has been glaring up at you demanding attention after you put her down against her will.

“You needy little diva.” You coo at her.

[ **Sans:** haha definitely sounds like fun]

[ **Sans:** but you do work yourself too hard you know so marshallowbowlface is gonna start being your new look if ya keep it up]

[ **You:** someones gotta do it right?]

Yawning, you contemplate his message – you were tired, no doubt about that but you kind of felt proud of the responsibility you are taking on and you’d never leave the shop unattended; you can’t leave the animals behind or let Mr. Geller down.

[ **Sans:** not good to work so hard plus I aint seen much of you]

Feeling a little brave, the gossiping with Heather all night filling you with a tentative determination, you formulate your response and send it before you can take it back.

[ **You:** I have my responsibilities and I’ve got a lot of animals depending on me… But I know I need to make time for my friends too and I’m sure we can start seeing each other more. I really wanna make time for you]

You suck in a breath and hold it, eyes squinting at the screen and bracing yourself for some sort of awkward situation to bubble over like it had done a few times between the lovable skeleton and you.

After a minute there is no text back.

Five minutes pass and Cleo yawns widely, rubbing against your hand and retreating under the bed.

At ten minutes you curl up in bed and start to feel like maybe you had come off oddly – or perhaps Sans fell asleep? Either way, a little dread is beginning to pool in your stomach but you keep your resolve and resist the temptation to cover up your text as some sort of accident like you sheepishly had done before.

_BZZZT…_

You take your time, eyes adjusting to the bright phone light slowly before you access the message.

[ **Sans:** wanna make time tomorrow?]

Your bravery now felt like an impenetrable shield and you bask in the warm feeling of relief.

[ **You:** yeah. I’m only working the morning since douchenozzle Mick is finally coming in to cover. Meet at two outside my place?]

[ **Sans:** it’s a date :P]

Heather is going to flip when you tell her…

_If I tell her._

Snuggling into your blankets, you sleep soundly through what is left of the night, wondering where you and Sans are going to go and if he really meant it as a date.


	10. Across The Pond I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now now - shameless plug right here: I've really been wrapped up in the Undertale fandom like a damn fuzzy whirlwind blanket and have made some arts.  
> I'm thinking of restarting my DeviantArt account with some of my recent stuff but to be honest I wish there was somewhere else I could put my stuff :/  
> So I'll put my Instagram name here and if you'd like to take a gander: I've made one or two totallynotsexySans artworks.  
> Instagram: macaronihero  
> /Endshamelessplug

“… You can’t be serious.” You speak slowly, your words are seething and your anger is practically frothing at the surface.

There’s an awkward cough before the reply comes “Y-yeah – I ain’t gonna be in till later today.”

Mick barely finishes his sentence before you bite “Mick, if you were any more of a languid slug I’d be pouring salt down your fucking throat – you’re a lazy free-loader with the ambition of a mismatched sock and you let more people down than a goddamn ferris wheel.”

“W-wait what?”

“It won’t hurt to open the store late – open it at eleven. I did all the hard-graft yesterday and… Actually every day. So I'm not actually gonna come in at all - give you a taste of your own damn medicine.” You can’t help raising your voice as you carry on, the indignant injustice of this joke of a colleague enraging you further “So just open the damn place late and dawdle around like the shovel-faced dweeb you are!”

You hang up and grit your teeth – how much do you miss having those old-style phones where you could just slam it down? Too much.

With nothing to relieve your rage, you get dressed… Angrily? You almost rip your leggings as you yank them on and grumble to yourself. There’s a knock on your bedroom door and you grunt. As it opens, Heather’s doe-eyed freckled face peers in like a rabbit looking for danger – your heart drops a little as you then see Cleo rocket out as soon as the door is cracked open: you forgot she had been in there with you and must have been scared stiff.

“H-hey… Want me to get you some breakfast?” Heather smiles timidly.

You sigh and push your hair back in a hairband then walk over to her “No, no. I’ll sort it.” You smile at her apologetically as she lets you pass “I’m sorry.”

“Did that Mick guy cop out of work again?”

“Pfft! He damn well tried it on, yeah…” You drop two cereal bowls on the counter, a little anger still present in your actions “Dickhead said he was up all night vomiting and could probably only just make it in to work.” You make a fake sad face, wiping fake tears away before then frowning “Just like last week three times over.”

Heather plops on one of the stools and props her head on her hands, pulling a face “Wow. At least try to come up with something semi-believable.”

You gesture at her, exasperated “I know right? Lazy asshole…” shaking your head you sort out breakfast and start munching.

“Well you sorted out all the animals yesterday right?” Heather notes “So you don’t have to worry about them if douchebag gets in late.”

You nod “Yeah… It’s just more the fact that if I did go in I know I’d stay all day – want something done right: do it yourself, you know? And if I stayed then I’d have to bail on Sans.” You stare into space as you eat.

Heather is blinking at you, spoon half-raised.

It takes a few seconds but you notice and cock your head at her “Hmm?”

“You… Made plans with Sans today?”

“Uh…”

Heather beams at you, cooing “I knew our girl talk gave you all the guts you needed! Where are you gonna go?” she flutters her eyelashes “That coffee café is so cute – what are you going to wear!” she gasps “Want me to help ya choose?”

You laugh, her bubbly mood lifting your own “Down girl! Down!”

She smiles slyly “So who asked who, hmmm?”

Frowning you finish another spoonful “It just sort of came up. Does it matter?”

Heather shrugs and carries on eating “Just wanted some verification that you opening up to me actually helped hurry your relationship along.” She then pokes her tongue out at you “Gotta know I was right to nag you!”

“Woman! Nagging doesn’t help.” You point your spoon at her for effect “Ever.” You clear your throat before carrying on, feeling a little sheepish “Do… Do you think I have to dress up? I didn’t last time.”

Heather ponders your question and shrugs “So long as you are the one who is comfy and happy – that’s the main thing. Sans is clearly into you so you could probably go in a bin bag and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid…” She pauses before glancing at you “Does Sans have eyelids?”

“Err…” you aren’t actually sure but check yourself – you have no need to care how Sans (or any monster) works or functions – and you don’t want to make the same nosy mistakes you’ve made a few times before “Heather. Either way – he’s just another person.”

Heather nods “Oh yeah I know – but I’m sure plenty of monsters are curious about us humans too!”

You snicker and wiggle an eyebrow at her “Is Kevin as curious as you, hmm?”

With a searing blush suddenly standing to attention Heather hides a smirk “Nooooo idea what you could possibly mean, ……..!”

The pair of you giggle and go about the rest of the morning having a bit of a tidy up and then laze about for an hour or so – you can tell Heather is dying to hang around for when Sans turns up but she reluctantly leaves shortly before two, reminding you that she would be ‘on call’ for any updates from you.

Lazing on the sofa, legs splayed over the arm you flip through your phone: Sans had messaged you a good morning earlier but you’d spotted the cop-out text from Mick right after and ended up with tunnel-vision with that asshole’s head on a spike at the end of it – you’d shot Sans a quick reply but nothing more and he hadn’t said anything back. With a little dread you wonder if he is going to show up like you’d planned, feeling a little foolish for not following up the plan earlier today – you glance up at your Pikachu-shaped clock above your telly and resign yourself to waiting as it is already 13:50.

Heather had kept you company as you had rifled through your wardrobe but didn’t pester you in what you chose – in fact she seemed happy with your selection: the chill in the air is still present so you opted for a loose cotton-soft brown jumper that sits off your shoulder, trusty black leggings and your favourite spiked platform creepers – although you were probably thinking of how good the shoes would be for kicking a certain douchebag colleague up the ass. The only thing Heather insisted was to “do something with your damn hair you lazy bum” so she straightened it for you: your fringe now waves hello in your eyes whenever you look up causing you to absent-mindedly blow it out of the way.

Which you do now out of exasperation more than annoyance – it’s just after two now and you start to debate with yourself whether to send Sans a courtesy text or just leave it a little longer; he is just a _little_ late…

_BZZT…_

[ **Sans:** knock knock]

Without skipping a beat, you hop up and clunk out the door with your beloved shoes, waving at a snoozing Cleo on your supposedly comfortable shoe rack. You can’t help but enjoy the booming echoes you make as you make your way down the stairs – it’s been a while since you wore some decent kickass shoes – but then you realise that some of this uplifting feeling is due to the fact you are able to go out; to actually dress in non-lazing clothes and head out somewhere with someone.

 _Even a recluse likes company I guess… Well, actually spiders like to find a mate and then eat them…_ Your mind wanders and you try to clear it as you leave the building, slapping on a totally-not-awkward grin as you see Sans waiting a few feet away.

“Hey!”

Sans nods at you “Love the shoes – going curb-stomping?”

You scoff “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m tempted.” He chuckles and then cocks his head at you “Somethin’ happen?”

“Eh. Yeah – just douchenozzle lazy-ass from the pet shop tried getting out of work again,” you begin walking down the street with Sans at your side as you recant your rage-tale without leaving out a single detail of what you had said to Mick in his scolding earlier this morning.

Sans listens without interrupting, laughing at your creative insults “At least I’m not _that_ lazy” he says after you finish, then smirks at you “wouldn’t want to get on your bad side that’s for sure.”

You playfully nudge his shoulder “Hey, don’t act like I’m some inane raging psycho!”

“You got a backbone a mile long.”

“… I’ll take that as a compliment,” You narrow your eyes at him and pull a face “otherwise I’d be snapping two pairs of legs today.”

Sans chuckles and shakes his head, saying something under his breath that you can’t hear – before you can ask he turns to you and holds out his hands shaped into fists “Pick one.”

“W-why?” you frown at him “This some prank, Mr. Jokester?”

His grin lessens and he raises a brow at you impatiently “You wanna go somewhere today or not?”

You hesitate before glancing between his closed hands, eventually pointing at his right one – and then he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him.

There’s a flash, a split-second where you can’t see – but you almost can? – You jerk your hand away with the same groggy feeling as if you’d startled yourself awake from being half-asleep.

Sans is still in front of you, his right hand still tightly clasped around your wrist but the place around you isn’t your street.

“W-what the hell…?” you stammer, pulling your arm away, holding your slightly reddening hand.

You’re in the middle of a city – grey stone-washed buildings jut up all around you, piercing into a cloudy sky. The smell of freshly fallen rain is almost choking and the bustle of busy streets fills your ears, making them ring from the sudden change in noise-level compared to your quiet street.

You take a step back “What did…?”

Sans’ expression becomes worried and he reaches out to you “Wait, wait – it’s just magic, …….. – it’s okay.”

“Okay… Explain. Please.” You’re definitely a little frightened and also quite annoyed – what did Sans just do to you without even asking?

He clears his throat and puts his hands in his pockets like a boy who is getting told off, then turns and gestures to the buildings around you “This is New York.”

“…”

“I used magic to takes us here.”

“…”

“Um…” Sans frowns at you “……..?”

“New… York?” this is more than a little overwhelming – there is magic _this_ powerful; to just take you across the Atlantic Ocean in less time than a heartbeat?

Sans gives you a small smile and nod “Yeah. I gave you a choice on where to go and you chose New York.”

You snort a laugh and clap your hands together – overwhelmed and a little scared but delighted all the same “We’re in New York!”

Sans laughs, clearly relieved if the few beads of sweat on his brow are an indicator.

You spin around and drink in everything around you – it really isn’t that different to London apart from everything looking really squished together, and taller “We’re in New York!” you repeat, even louder, holding your arms out as if to embrace the city around you.

“Er… Yeah.” Sans puts his arm around you and starts walking you down the street “Kid keep it down a little – people are looking.”

You giggle excitedly and manage a loud whisper, looking at him with starry eyes “You’ve taken me on a date to _New York_!”

And this is the day you see a skeleton blush for the first time.

“… Heh.”


	11. Across The Pond II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uploading has been a pain. This chapter and the last were finished a few days ago but for some reason I kept getting error 502... THEN I realised it was because I accidentally put a HTML symbol in the one place where it would confuse the site into being unable to post.  
> Thank you AO3 for getting back to me and being so lovely despite it being my own silly fault. I Heart You xD

“This is fucking _awesome_!” you cry, then quickly covering your mouth, you glance at Sans a little ashamed of your expletive – he laughs at you and you giggle back.

“Glad you’re excited. I was a little worried, not gonna lie.” The pair of you are walking down a less busy street but still close together to avoid being lost in the streams of people jostling past – you’ve avoided the instinct to loop your arm round his.

The street lights cast warm orange puddles across the pavement and you tingle as you walk underneath them – it may be as dreary as England but just knowing you’re thousands of miles away leaves you with a childish giddy feeling: what else could Sans do? What was the other option if not New York?

You peer at him with awe and then realised what he had said “Worried? Pfft – I’ve been whisked away across the globe _so_ many times by boyfriends before” you laugh.

 _Boyfriends… Nice choice of words_. Your thoughts scold you into an awkward grimace.

Sans doesn’t look at you, if anything he glances away but you can see the edge of a wide smile just above his scarf – he clearly has come here many times before as you both weave through the streets without hesitation and his clothing matches the other New Yorkers bustling around – he fits right in.

You: not so much – a couple of people have given you odd looks as you’re clearly not dressed for hustling New York city life. But you feel like you’re glowing with this amazing secret trip to this unknown land.

“We’re here.” Sans says as you round a corner and he gestures at the building ahead of you with an air of pride “This is _the_ Grillby’z.”

The building is tall and made from strong stark red brick, big warm windows show the lively atmosphere inside; the foliage and car park before you leading up to the entrance are immaculate with not a scrap of litter to be seen and before you can really look around, Sans is already ahead of you beckoning for you to catch up.

“Err – this looks kinda fancy, Sans…” you mumble quietly, not wanting to sound ungrateful but feeling very _very_ out of your depth.

Sans snorts and shakes his head “What? Grillby’z – fancy? Don’t worry kid – if I fit in here, anyone will.” He gives you a reassuring wink and lets you inside ahead of him.

The smell of fresh spices, rising-dough and cedar wood hits you in a refreshing gust and your worries melt away with the cold outside; there’s groups of people (mostly monsters) gathered around sturdy round wooden tables, low warm hanging strip lights that are just the right level of bright, polished wooden floors and classic-style posters from the Underground decorating the walls – at the head of the room is a huge dark-stained wooden bar sanded to glossy perfection and a mighty tall rack of shelving looming behind it, drinks of all types and from all-over the world adorning it.

“Oh damn…” you manage to say, Sans beaming beside you as he takes off his scarf and military jacket to put on one of the less-inundated coat stands.

“I’ve always got a table, so don’t worry ‘bout how busy it is.” Sans sounds chill but you can easily tell this is _his_ domain – if you thought he walked around Good Times club like he owned it then Grillby’z is his own mansion.

You smile back at him and shake off the building nerves you feel starting to take hold – this is a _date_ after all… You think – and you nod at him “Lead the way!”

As you walk behind him, the skeleton is greeted by all kinds of people – some shake his hand, others clap him on the back and he even scoops up one young armless monster who runs up to him in greeting. You can’t help feeling a little out of place and the nerves stay bubbling near the surface despite your efforts.

You and Sans take a seat in a burgundy-cushion padded booth, a little aways from the main bustle of the restaurant and he eagerly passes you a menu. Looking at it you can’t help but squint as the menu is literally just a wall of writing.

“Sans… There’s like… Thirty starters.” You have no clue where to start “What do you usually have?”

Sans is leaning back into the plush cushioned booth, resting his arms across his lap, looking cosy and content enough to fall asleep “The fries. Always.”

“Eh? Kind of boring when there’s so much else, don’t you think?”

“Oh no – not here. Give them a try, honestly.” He manages a lazy smile.

“You’re not just gonna fall asleep, are you?” you sneer “Usually going out on a _date_ requires a little effort on both sides.” You place air quotes with your fingers as you say the word date, just in case this actually isn’t a date – you’re still worriedly unsure of that fact yet.

Sans sits up and rubs the back of his neck “Heh sorry… Travelling over an ocean and then some does tucker a guy out.” He smiles apologetically and you immediately feel bad.

“Oh no! Wait,” you stutter and wave a hand at him “I didn’t mean it like that. Yeah you brought us all the way here and that was so friggin awesome.” You stumble “I was just joking – do you want to nap or something?”

Laughing Sans shakes his head “Nah – you’re right. I gotta give you my full undivided attention. It’s a date after all.”

Your heart basically stops and your eyes visibly widen while inside a little voice cheers.

Sans takes your supposed elation differently however “Err… By date I mean…” he falters “I mean just –”

“Sssaaansy, baby!” A sultry voice interrupts as a busty waitress approaches your table, her hips swaggering in a snake-like fashion. As you look up at her you notice she’s a monster – a smooth snake with a sleek woman’s body, eyes flashing dangerously and tongue flicking over every word.

You gulp – she is stunning, you can tell.

Sans whips his head around and your temper twinges to life as you notice him turn a dark shade of blue and stutter “C-Cordy… Uh…” he smiles shakily as he addresses her “H-how’s tricks?”

She pauses and then chooses to ignore him, leaning over the table and craning her long neck to you, her eyes smouldering as they settle on you. A moment later she holds out a slender hand “Cordelia Koronia. Nice to meet you.” Her New York accent is thick but her voice has a low rumbling hiss behind it, making your ears tingle as you listen.

You hesitate, feeling way out of place now if you weren’t feeling it already but you bravely keep your gaze on her while curtly shaking her silky smooth scaled hand “Likewise. I’m ……….”

“First time in New York?” she says, almost purring, her eyes unmoving.

Nodding, you spot Sans shuffling in his seat and assume it’s because he’s getting hot under the collar – and you decide to let your irked temper rise a little to guide you in this new and highly unpleasant situation.

Pooling together some courage, you smile widely at her “First time but definitely not the last. Now,” you pick up the menu, dismissing any further intimidation “What was it you recommended Sans? The fries to start with right?”

“Uh… Y-yeah –”

“Right, two of those to start with please,” You talk over him and lock eyes with Cordelia again, narrowing your own to make some sort of point although you aren’t sure what exactly “and two bottles of Budweiser – have to do since you don’t seem to stock my preference.”

Cordelia flicks out her tongue, otherwise unmoving.

You keep your wide smile in place.

She fluidly retreats to the side of the table, scaly brow raised and angled down at both you and Sans “Will that be all for now?” her hand is on her prominent hip in a defiant stance.

You answer immediately with a polite nod “Yes. Thank you very much. Cordy.”

There’s a faint rattling hiss just audible as the waitress forces a wide enough smile that her fangs are just about visible before turning and slinking away.

Now you direct your flaring anger at Sans, albeit with a calm expression and wait for him to explain.

“Heh. I’ll be right back.” He says, rising from the table “’Scuse me.”

He’s gone before you can say anything and the nerves puddling in your stomach bubble to life –

_What the fuck was that…_

Who is this stupidly sexy snake woman? From what you could determine in the two minutes she was here for it is clear that Sans is somewhat skittish around her – an ex-partner perhaps?

_Or a crush…?_

New York isn’t all that glamorous now as you sit alone and wait for Sans to come back – you start to feel angrier when you realise that if this outing did end up a disaster: how were you supposed to get home, exactly? Did Sans even think about that?

_Of course not. He just wanted to show off…_

You sigh and slouch back in your seat, sipping your second beer. It had only been five or so minutes and a bubbly young waiter had dropped your drinks off – he is one of the only humans that you’ve seen so far in here and you watch him flit around the restaurant, in his element. You remember your pet shop and a pang of guilt forces you to pull out your phone and text Mick – guilt for the pets you left with the schmuck rather than the schmuck himself.

[ **You:** hey. How’s the store doing? Animals are clean and fed but make sure you change their water.]

There’s a message from Heather waiting in your inbox too but you ignore it, not in any mood for updating her.

In your peripherals you spot Sans walking out of one of the backroom doors followed by a tall… Man on fire? Or more like a fire-man in a suave get up of smart-shirt and waistcoat. The pair were laughing together and parted at the bar, Sans heading back over to you.

“… Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You snap, arms folded “Sitting here is fun.”

Sans holds up his hands apologetically “I know I know… Come with me.” His brow is furrowed but his smile is patient.

You huff and get up to follow him. He leads you through a door and up some stairs – the air is heavier and warmer as you climb them, the lighting a little dimmer.

“’M sorry bout what happened.” Sans finally speaks a he leads you into a small room with a few empty tables and chairs “It wasn’t cool.”

You can’t help but scoff and stay quiet, expecting him to continue.

He leads you over to a table near a fairly large window with a view out into the street and the glistening waterfront, gesturing for you to take a seat. You can’t help admiring the view but quickly regain your stern expression and continue to watch him expectantly.

“Food will be here in a minute so…” Sans sits down opposite you and after a moment his smile drops and he lets out a long sigh “Alright, alright…” he shakes his head and raises his hands in an exasperated gesture “I’m not exactly sure how to explain so I’ll just go for it,”

“Yes. Please do.”

Sans coughs nervously “Cordy is… An old flame of mine. Old… Old old. We hooked up just before the liberation and she already had a job with Grillby – when he opened up his main restaurant here in New York she stayed by him and wanted me to move in with her.” Sans rubs his forehead “But I couldn’t. Papyrus wouldn’t cope in a big city like this one and I wasn’t gonna leave him behind.”

You can’t help but try to pick holes in what he is saying “You can just magic yourself over here whenever you want so what’s the problem?”

“Actually,” Sans sounds a little more stern now and his brow creases “Doesn’t work like that. I store magic over time until I have enough to go places. Kind of like how you save up money to travel.”

_So he saved up magic to bring me here…?_

Sans carries on, face softening again “Anyway – she didn’t like that and made things pretty difficult for me.” He rests his chin on his hands “I just didn’t feel the same way ‘bout her I guess.”

There’s still anger in you, but not as potent now – still you can’t help asking “Why bring me here?”

Shrugging, Sans leans back in his chair “I didn’t think she worked here anymore. Been a long time since I actually came here. A few years.”

_No wonder it seemed like everyone had missed him…_

“Sans… I don’t… Really know what to say.” You say honestly, arms still folded defensively round you.

“I’m just sorry for putting you through that. When they say all ex’s are snakes – they really mean it.”

You chuckle.

Your starters arrive but neither of you start eating right away. The atmosphere is strained at best and you wish you had some sort of situational training that prepared you for when a potential date is interrupted by your supposed suitor googling at a super-hot ex girlfriend that is giving you death glares…

“… Do you like it up here?” Sans ventures, picking up a ketchup bottle and slathering his whole plate in it.

You decide not to question his desecration of his food “It was more lively downstairs. But the view is nice.”

“I spoke to Grillby and he let us have this room to ourselves – thought that it’s the least I could do to get us away from that viper.” Sans speaks sincerely and you can’t help but meet his gaze “I’m sorry, ………”

There’s a flare of giddy feeling inside you, burning away all the dread and nerves you had coiling in the pit of your stomach and you can’t help but smile at his genuine apology “It’s okay, bonehead.”

As if on cue, your stomach roars and you have to hold back stuffing the food down your gullet. Although you do attack your plate with some speed especially when you taste the magical delicious crispy goodness of classic Grillby fries.

Sans chuckles “See? What did I tell ya?”

Your mouth is full but you raise a brow at him “You just ruin it with all that sauce.”

“Yeah well I’m quite fond of ketchup.”

You snort “Fond!? Sans – your _plate_ is more ketchup than plate!”

“… Your point?”

“You’re such a weirdo.” You giggle.

Sans’ eyes narrow and he smirks “Well I don’t go blaming cats for the mop buckets I walk into.”

You gasp, feigning hurt “Sans! What a low blow. I thought you were a gentleman.”

“I rescued you a few times – kind of gentlemanly right?”

You ponder that for a moment and then start counting on your fingers “Hmm… You’ve rescued me from big burly Tim, creepy drunk guy, my own drunken self, a mop and bucket, an eight-legged menace, a sexy-snake temptress…” you look at him pointedly and his eyes avoid yours, but you continue “… And you’ve saved me from myself, more importantly.”

Sans cocks his head at you “What’dya mean?”

Biting your lip, you feel a little foolish now but decide to carry on – you’re on a date, he’s taken you across the globe and he’s opened up to you a little about his past; you owe him a little something, right?

You level your eyes with him before speaking “Sans… You’ve saved me from being lonely. Saved me from my own chains – the ones I make for myself. Because of you; I want to go out, I want to have fun, I want to just… _Do_ stuff.” You laugh feeling a little awkward, not quite sure how to word your thoughts “You… You’ve just done a lot for me, okay?”

You feel like you finished flatly but shrug and smile at him…

… His eyes are looking into you, almost searching. He’s leaning over the table slightly, drinking in everything you’re saying. He is your captive audience.

Heart racing, you have no idea what to say – is he expecting you to continue talking?

_I don’t know what else to bloody say! What the damn hell do I even…? UGH._

Clearing your throat you straighten up in your seat and wave a hand near Sans’ face “Uh, hello? You even in there, bonehead?”

“You’re something else.” Sans speaks calmly but stern, his expression unreadable but focussed “You really are.”

The young waiter you saw downstairs bursts into the room with a cheesy smile and saunters over to your table.

“Evening, my friends! Have we decided what we would like for your mains?” he has a notepad and pen ready in his hands and he bows his head to you politely.

Sans looks visibly aggravated but you feel a little relieved – you aren’t sure what this situation was amounting to and a break from it is certainly welcome: this socialising and feeling stuff is a little rocky for you still.

“Oh, you know what?” you grin sheepishly up at the waiter “We actually… Haven’t even looked.”

The waiter laughs and shakes his head “No worries, ma’am.” He bows low and shoots you a cheeky wink “I’ll return in a few more minutes.”

You feel your cheeks redden and look away from him only to see Sans watching the waiter leave – you see his face has darkened and you can’t see his eyes but he looks… Angry?

You lean round and try and get his attention “Sans…?”

His head whips round and his eyes are back, a little wide as if startled “Uh yeah?”

_Hmm… Well at least we are even on the jealous front… Although that waiter isn’t an ex-partner of mine._

You decide to take the higher ground and change the subject, speaking with renewed vigour “So. What was in your other hand?”  
“… Huh?”

“What was the other choice? Other than here?”

“Oh… Uh…” Sans grins sheepishly and shrugs “Dunno. Was kinda hopin’ you’d like New York either way.”

“So the choice was… Never a choice?” you smirk “Was this just a half-assed plan, Mr. Lazybones?”

Sans eyes dart away in mock innocence “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

You laugh “Well either way, choice or no choice – I’m glad you surprised me with this.” And then you remember that Sans had used what is akin to financial savings to bring you here and you can’t help but frown “But… I have to pay you back.”

Sans shakes his head and waves a hand dismissively as if bringing someone across the ocean could be done in his sleep “No skin off my bones, kid. Honestly.”

“Pfft. Quit it with calling me kid.” You pout.

“Force of habit.” He shrugs.

“I’ll force it to stop.”

“Heh. Hate it that much do you?”

You sigh “No but…” You point at him “I dunno how old you are – pretty old I’d imagine since you are always dozing off – but I’ve been living on my own for a good few years now. Doing adulting and everything.” You sit up proudly.

Sans chuckles “Adulting, huh?” he then shoots you a sarky smirk “Is that what it’s supposed to be?”

You gasp “Hey! I’m way responsible!”

“I’ll say one thing: ‘bitching hour’.”

Scowling you stick your tongue out at him.

The suave waiter comes reeling in once more, so handsomely you swear you could see sparkles – and a wicked devilish idea comes into your head. Propping yourself on your elbows you flutter your eyelashes up at him, determination flaring as you spot Sans staring at you in your peripherals.

You clock the waiter’s name tag this time, full-charm mode activated “Hey there, Leon” you smile widely “I’m _so_ sorry but I still haven’t decided.”

“Not a problem, ma’am.” Leon tips his head to you “Five more minutes, then?”

You giggle and pout “I won’t disappoint you next time, I promise.”

Before he turns away, Leon noticeably seems a little flustered and as he leaves you smirk at Sans who’s mouth is slightly gaping at you.

You blink innocently “Hmm? Something wrong, Sans?”

“This you getting me back for earlier?” He growls.

Shrugging you lean back in your chair “An eye for an eye sounds fair I think.”

Sans stares at you but then his face softens and he sighs “Okay I get it… I’m sorry but…” he gestures at you “No more of that.”

“No more what?”

“… No more being… Uh…”

You laugh and offer some help “Gorgeous? Amazing? Cute as hell? Irresistible?” you’re joking of course.

“Yeah. Don’t do those.”

_Oh… Does that mean he thinks of me as those things…?_

Your breath catches in your throat and you can tell by his tone: he clearly isn’t joking.


	12. Across The Pond III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy on the backstory here. Trying to keep exposition light and not too heavy :)  
> Thank you for everyone who's pointed a couple of super silly mistakes I've made - even though I've gone through each chapter a bajillion times there is always something!
> 
> Instagram: macaronihero

When Leon eventually slinks back (in full peacock-mode since you’d riled him up) Sans is quick to put him down by meeting him halfway across the room and stating your food order, also apparently deciding for you also – and yet seeing this more _firm_ side of Sans is almost enthralling… Enticing? What’s more is it has done nothing to help your thudding heartrate, which has been a loud thumping drum since he basically agreed with your sarcastic list of traits (including but not limited to the words ‘gorgeous’ and ‘cute as hell’), your body temperature is practically at boiling point and you’ve rolled up your jumper sleeves, kicked off your shoes and had three glasses of ice-cold water – then this blatant display of jealous anger had you almost fanning yourself.

It’s a miracle that Sans hadn’t somehow noticed…

 _Or it’s all just in my head._ You hope you’re right and check for sweat stains every so often.

The two of you had otherwise chatted the evening away – slimy snake exes and long distance travel qualms forgotten, only pausing for ten minutes or so while you both demolished your doubled-up angus “monterery jack’d” cheeseburgers.

You learned that Sans had spent as much of his time here in New York as he could manage after the Liberation; he worked for Grillby as a monster getting a job up here right after Liberation was impossible – Sans travelled almost daily, having to crash at the restaurant between shifts all to make ends meet. If this wasn’t sad enough, he described New York as his and Papyrus’ “get away when things get… Heavy.” – you wanted to push for just a bit more information but kept your prying impulses in check out of respect for how much he has told you already. In spite of this however, you had kept your own history as guarded as possible while staying politely open enough – you wanted to know everything about this cute, funny and slightly jealous skeleton and the more you both talk, the desire only greatens. You didn’t think yourself anywhere near as interesting.

But apparently Sans feels otherwise as he once again asks you about how you ended up in Motoran and throws in a sneaky pout too.

You give in, the alcohol and now possibly quite late time relax you just enough.

“As soon as I hit fourteen I started looking for a job and a way out – not an official job of course just cash in hand or pocket money” You begin, nonchalantly swirling your beer, sighing as if this is the most boring story that could be told ever “You know – parents coming down on ya and school and… Shit.” You finish bluntly, swigging your drink and thinking of any way you can cop out of this damn story…

Sans voice is low “I don’t actually.”

Your eyes snap to him and your mouth hangs open – of course he wouldn’t know about school… Or having parents? What does someone say to that?

As if being caught daydreaming, Sans blinks and looks at you before attempting a sheepish grin “Heh sorry. Carry on.”

You decide to do so, not wanting to even _poke_ that obvious can of worms – although your story is also a very unpleasant can of worms…

_Just worms everywhere…_

“Well to keep it… Polite? Er… My parents are rich.” You shrug “Like rich rich. Not that it makes a difference though, I guess. They’d be lousy either way, I’m sure.”

Sans is watching you intently, his attention spurs you on.

“Anyway – Mr. Geller used to own a library in town, small beaten-up little shack but I loved going in there,” you pretend to covertly whisper and hide your words with your hand, leaning over the table “He had comics and Goosebumps, you know.”

Sans smiles a little, eyes never leaving yours.

You sigh and finish your beer, Sans handing you another from the now liquid ice bucket “So as you can guess, my parents didn’t like any books that weren’t thicker than a brick so I learned to never get caught… Mostly. That’s just so you get an idea of what they were like.” You down more of your beer “I spoke to Mr. Geller a lot and apparently a lot of that was how much I hated everything that wasn’t in the books I read. I hated school because I was in a small class of what were called ‘highers’ – or kids that were either mega brainy or with aristocrat parents,” you raise a brow and smile sarcastically pointing to yourself “can you guess which one I was? I hated home because I’d spend my time studying to stay in school even though I know it was my parent’s money that kept me there.”

You blow your fringe out of your face, leaning back in your chair, uncaringly throwing your feet up on the table – etiquette be damned “I remember that every birthday I’d just wish and wish and wish that all the money would disappear so I wouldn’t have to work so hard for something I knew I shouldn’t have.”

“………., I’m sorry I pried. We can talk about somethin’ else if –”

Shaking your head roughly at Sans’ offer you wave your bottle at him, feeling more light-headed (and braver) by the second “You asked for it, bonehead!”

Sans leans back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the table too and nods at you “Guess I better take what’s comin’ to me then.”

You snort before carrying on “I was meant to be cutting this short, wasn’t I? I’ll try again – my parents are major douches. Like mega douches. I was their prodigal daughter and they tried moulding me to fit it. I learned who I was from an early age and fought them all the way; ripping my designer dresses and playing with the kids downtown rather than on our estate. Mr. Geller moved to Motoran a hundred or so miles from where I was to open a pet store and I ran away from home to join him.” You grin cheekily “Not that he knew – so when I turned up at the shop with holes in my shoes and barely a cloth on my back he just _had_ to take me in.” you force a laugh “Genius idea, am I right?”

Sans blinks at you, eyes wide “You… You walked all that way? At fourteen?”

You nod vigorously “And I’d do it a million times over.” And continue despite the forlorn expression that has spread across Sans’ face – at this point you feel impervious to any emotion “I begged Mr. Geller not to call my parents but he did. I hated him for it but then when my parents didn’t actually bother to come and get me and the old badger let me live in the shop… I couldn’t really stay mad, you know?”

“I’m going to stop you there, kid.” Sans stands up from the table, masking how clearly upset he is by your story with a nonchalant shrug and arcs his arms up in a big stretch “I think we’ve both had a bit more emotion than we’re used to in one day, don’t you think?”

You jump up and point at him with a victorious cheer, the room spinning a little “Told you my story was boring!”

His arms are around you and when you blink to clear your vision you realise you’re practically horizontal and almost on the floor.

“Eh…?”

You hear – and feel – Sans laugh as he slowly pulls you up “I wasn’t counting but I definitely think you’ve had more than me tonight.”

You giggle, his haphazard embrace is warm just like anyone else; except he isn’t just anyone else and you feel compelled to lean in – and you do, hugging him in a somewhat uncoordinated fashion.

“……..? You… You okay?”

Sans’ breath tickles your ear as you snuggle into his chest and you catch the strong hit of alcohol but also something a little heady – his own natural scent is spicy but almost brightening like a refreshing sea breeze. He calls your name again and tries to stand you up but you remain steadfast, eyes drifting up so you can just about see his mouth which is shaped in an awkward smile, a deep shade of blue staining his cheeks either side.

_How cute…_

********

Sans has you sat in your kitchen as he brews coffee – you have no idea what time it is and you don’t even want to know. The cold countertop is so relieving and you splay yourself across it, nuzzling it like an old friend.

He places a piping hot mug in front of you “You feeling okay now?” There is an air of mirth in his words and you can’t help but scowl up at him.

Your cheek is smooshed against the counter as you talk “Well esshcuse me fhor havin a fuhn time.”

Sans chuckles and scoops up Cleo, stroking her as he places her on the counter. The cat purrs like a motorbike, in bliss at her sudden spotlight on the tabletop and she nuzzles your hand as you sit up and reach over to her.

“You’re far from sober, drink up.” Sans states, taking a seat opposite you and sipping his own cup. You look from him to your cup – and then back to him again: he’s in shorts and a Motoran Dragons jersey or what you would otherwise label: pajamas.

Still buzzing, you point an accusatory finger at him, brushing Cleo’s tail out of the way “You sleepin’ over or something?”

Sans quirks a browbone at you and nods to your cup.

You grumble but wrap your hands around it, not really enjoying its heat, and then take a tentative sip, eyes remaining on him.

He waits another moment before shrugging “I’d figured since I took ya across the Atlantic and back in one day you could cut me some slack and let me crash?” his expression softens into a genuine smile and he tilts his head “If I’m honest, I’m probably too tired to get home.”

“How far away are you?” you ask and then realisation dawns and you almost knock your chair over “That’s how you got up my stairs so fast! You teleported, right?”

“Heh. My secret’s revealed.”

He sounds a little arrogant so you choose to scoff in response “A modern-day Houdini. Nothing spectacular.” You tease.

“Pfft. I ain’t no mere magician.”

Giggling, you take another sip of the super-potent coffee, the laughing brightening you up a little “At any rate – yes: of course you can stay over. Least I could do since you won’t let me even go halves on dinner.”

Sans grins “I figured you wouldn’t mind. And yeah – you’re not paying a dime.” He’s leaning on the counter in a lazy slouch and you sneak a peek at his bare forearms, amazed at how you can just look between his bones. You wonder if they’re rough or smooth…

Cleo hops down from the counter and slinks away into your room: and if she’s sleepy after a long day of sleeping then you know it must be deathly late. Daring a glance at your phone you see it’s two in the morning – could be worse – and you pointedly remind yourself: to remind yourself to text Heather first thing tomorrow. Mick’s message in response to your check-in earlier is vague at best and you inwardly grumble, dreading what you’re going to walk in to tomorrow morning – i.e. in six hours time.

“C’mon, you should definitely be getting to bed.” Sans says, stretching.

Between feeling guilty about leaving Heather in the dark and the dread of what Mick might have done (or not done) – and then having Sans sleeping in your flat – you don’t even want to fathom how much of these six hours you’re actually going to get.

But the knowledge of Sans sleeping so close is… Exciting.

 _Late-night post-drunk me is a bloody mess…_ you scold yourself.

“You going to be warm enough out here?” You ask before realising that what you said could possibly seem like some sultry invitation “N-not that I meant to sleep in my bed or anything.”

Something flashes across Sans’ face, just for a second before he rolls his shoulders and rubs his neck “I’ll be just fine. Please try and catch some sleep, okay kid?”

You groan “What did I say about calling me that? It’s patronising at best.”

Sans laughs “Okay okay – I’ll try and stop.”

With a huff you nod “Good.” And you hesitate – what were you waiting for exactly?

Sans frowns a little, unsure of what you are stalling for either.

“Goonight.” You finally say, holding your arms around yourself before turning away and closing your bedroom door.

As soon as you are out of sight you let out a long, long sigh and rub your hands over your face, exasperated – what an ordeal this ‘date’ was. It was fun but there was so much baggage – not just from Sans but from you as well – and you’re starting to wonder if you can handle it all.

_Is this what it takes to date? I don’t think I can…_

Drained and confused, you barely get into your bedclothes before flopping on the bed and practically passing out, leaving the bedroom light on.

You bedroom light is almost a floodlight in the dark of the living room and an annoyed Sans waits patiently on the sofa for it to turn off. After ten minutes he grumbles and approaches your door.

“……..? You gonna sleep or what?”

When he gets no response he fights with himself for a moment – does he just walk in? If you’re asleep then there’s no point in knocking…

With a sigh, Sans slips into your room and just before he flicks the light off his eyes are drawn to your half-dressed body lying diagonal across your bed. He stares for almost a minute before nervously padding over.

You feel yourself being shifted, the cold of a pillow under your head and a gust of air as blankets are pulled over you.

“G’night.” Sans’ voice is almost a whisper and he brushes a lock of your wayward hair out of your face before leaving.


	13. Tempers Flare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all love getting into the more meatier parts of a story, don't we? ;D
> 
> Instagram: macaronihero

“Shit!” you burst out of your bedroom, pulling on your work-shirt and stumbling into the kitchen “Shit shit shit!”

You clatter around, grabbing some half-toasted bread and searching for your keys – usually your keys, wallet, name badge and trusty stick of chewing gum are kept on the counter but not this morning apparently. You groan and roughly tuck in your shirt as you look around.

“Morning to you too.”

Your head snaps round and Sans is splayed out on your sofa, half-covered in your fox throw. He’s smirking at you but damn does he look _tired_.

“H-hey… Sorry. I’m way late.” You try not to grumble, exasperated even further by him just being here.

“I’d offer to take you to work,” he yawns, big and toothy, rubbing his eyes “but I’m bushed after yesterday.”

You’re whizzing around as he speaks and wave a hand at him while you grab your coat and shoes “Don’t worry about it.” You click your fingers and Cleo slinks out of your room, mewling as she tries to give you a nuzzle but you stand up with a huff and turn to your door… And you hesitate. You look back at Sans who is just peering over your sofa enough to wave goodbye.

“Err… So you staying here today, then?”

Sans shrugs “I can lock up for ya and drop your keys off to you later?” he then gestures to himself “I’m nothing but a bicycle right now – two tired.” His pun is awful and he looks just as bad.

You can’t waste any more time so you force a smile “I’ll see you when I get back – maybe we can get take out or something?”

And you’re out the door, scooping up Cleo before you hear his response – you’ve got to get to the shop _now_ to survey the potential collateral clean-up and you are more than sure that the day’s work is certainly cut out for you.

********

You arrive at the shop, fumbling your keys ready to burst in and get the place up and running – you’re over half an hour late and the list of things you need to do is just whizzing around your head, building into this great big lump of panic – and then you stop, midway to reaching for the door handle:

It’s open. Customers are inside doing customer-things. Birds are chirping away within and you can hear the kittens too. There’s a sort of ‘business’-bustle audible too.

Cautiously, you peer in and Mr. Geller greets you with a hearty smile despite his pale demeanour “Morning, ……… I assume you didn’t get the message?”

“Wha? Er…No I didn’t?” you join him behind the counter and see he’s sitting in a chair with a cane next to him.

He frowns “I asked Mick to contact you to say I would be opening today.”

 _How convenient for that douchenozzle to forget…_ you inwardly grumble – probably revenge for your harsh words yesterday. You take a long breath to calm yourself and are just about to bid him goodbye – but then you fall silent as you watch the old man struggle up from his chair to tend to the till with a customer – he really shouldn’t be back here yet.

You wait for him to finish before you decide to approach him carefully as he isn’t the kind of person to accept help based on pity “Well actually I was hoping to get in some overtime?”

“Nope.” Mr.Geller replies chirpily as he shakily takes his seat again “Can’t afford it.”

Annoyed that he clearly is in no condition to even stock shelves, never mind sweep, clean and feed the animals, you purse your lips and try to respond calmly “Surely it wouldn’t hurt? Mick probably left this place in a state yesterday –”

Mr. Geller takes off his glasses and polishes them on the side of his corduroys “Mick did a decent job yesterday – yes, I was surprised too.” He laughs before readjusting his spectacles on the end of his bulbous nose “I really don’t have any work for you today, ………”

Your temper twinges and you gesture in a wide arc at the store, narrowing your eyes at him “What, pray tell, are you gonna be able to even _do_ today? You shouldn’t even be back here yet.” You huff and fold your arms, feeling a little hurt that maybe it’s because Mr. Geller didn’t think you were capable of handling the shop for a few days and hasn’t even mentioned the fact.

Come to think of it – Mr. Geller doesn’t even seem remotely grateful for what you’ve done in his absence; you can’t help feel that hurt turn a shade of angry red.

“The best medicine is to work.” Is all he says.

The shaky old man then walks past you (slowly) and up to a young boy who is wringing his hands and looking around sheepishly next to a knocked of display of parrot toys.

The front door bell jingles and you feel your rage bubble even more when you see that it’s Mick. The gawky kid (although he is around your age) sees you and looks like he is ready to bolt out of there, but you step forward and force a viper’s smile which roots him in place.

_So what – this punk gets the overtime over me?_

You speak in a drawn-out and dangerously sarcastic tone “Mornin’ _Mick._ Starting to show up for shifts now – and overtime too, no less.”

Mick stutters and looks to try and wriggle past you.

“Isn’t teamwork great?” you growl “Like how I come here for twelve hour shifts, clean this place from top to damn bottom, working however many days in a row, pushing sales and staying oh so happy… And then you turn up and charm Mr. Geller by working ‘hard’ for a single damn day…”

Mick visibly gulps and attempts to speak “I-I’m sorry I f-forgot to tell you –”

You bark at him “Damn right you did.”

“………!” Mr. Geller shouts and the pair of you jump, snapping to face him. He frowns at you “I don’t need you here today. You can go home.” He clearly isn’t asking.

 _After all I’ve done for this stupid damn store – for you, the ugly old prune…_ your thoughts race, redhot and angry but you say nothing. You glare daggers at Mick for a solid moment, willing his head to explode, before leaving and slamming the door.

You storm down the street and as soon as you come to a small alleyway you duck in out of sight and kick over a rubbish bin and proceed to dent it multiple times. Your phone buzzes and after a few more kicks you pull it out, keeping some restraint as to not give in to temptation to just lob it at the wall.

[ **Sans:** everything ok?]

At this moment you don’t know if you’re angry, confused or touched that he somehow may know how pissed off you are – you put it down to him being magic or whatever but now the thought occurs to you: what else can he just _know_?

Your rage promptly switches focus.

[ **You:** I assume you probably already know.]

You reply, feeling a little unnerved that you know this isn’t some coincidental message. You even glance around – could he be here right now?

[ **Sans:** just wanted to make sure you got there ok.]

Temper flaring again you reply.

[ **You:** im coming home now – you will tell me the truth when I get there.]

********

It feels awkward knocking on your own door and you wait, arms folded and mouth ready to lay in to Sans as soon as he answers.

“I’ll open up when you chill out.”

_…_

You grit your teeth “Sans. Let me in _my_ friggin house.”

When there’s no response you bang your fist against it with a grunt “Dammit, Sans!”

The door opens and he steps up to you, face to face, not looking overly happy himself. His brow is creased and his pupils are small.

His voice has a low tone “You gonna come in and talk to me about what happened.”

At his demand you feel your fiery rage dissipate a little and your arms droop, a shiver of goosebumps breaking out across them – you try and hold some ground by maintaining angry eye contact with him as you push past into your flat and awkwardly lean against the sofa.

Sans closes the door and leans back against it, his dark expression lightening a little and he nods to you “So. What happened?”

You shoot him a sharp glare although the rest of you is defiantly turned away from him “I want to know _why_ exactly you knew something was up.”

You have never heard Sans sound annoyed before but his tone seems impatient “Not really the issue here – what happened?”

“Why should I tell you?” you snap “What good is it?”

“Because we’re friends.”

You roll your eyes “And that gives you the right to trap me into having to talk with you?”

Sans’ frown intensifies and he’s no longer in his usual laid-back posture “Sorry that’s how you see it.” he stomps over and reaches past you, his face again right in yours, and grabs his jacket. His eyes don’t leave you “I’m always there for my friends. _That’s_ why I knew you were pissed off. Call it magicial intuition.”

Turning away, Sans’ shrugs on his jacket and seems to hesitate as if maybe giving you a chance to say something…

And you do – but probably not the right thing.

“When you stayed the night yesterday – did you plan it?”

Sans slowly faces you, eyes wide “W-what?”

Everything that you’ve questioned about him comes to a head, mixing with your already turbulent emotions and you sneer at him, taking a step forward and poking him in his chest.

“You _had_ to stay last night – you took two trips halfway across the fucking world and guilt-tripped me so damn hard: of _course_ I let you stay. What _else_ did you have planned?”

You hear Sans’ knuckles crack as he clenches his fists and his face has grown dark, eyes barely visible – his voice only sounds the slightest bit calm, his words come slowly “Is that what you think.”

“You were _so_ quick to get my number – you appear everywhere and whenever you feel like it – you took me on a date somewhere that I actually wouldn’t be able to get away from and you played the guilty card so I couldn’t argue with you staying over!”

“You didn’t want to argue.”

You growl “You don’t know that –”

Sans is looking at you with something else other than anger, just like when you were teasing him about his magic the other day – a flash of something darker. His grin is wide and toothy and he’s leaning closer “I _know_ you didn’t want to argue.”

Like a rabbit in front of an open-mawed predator; you shrink away, heart suddenly revving into a hundred and twenty beats per minute, a prickling feeling running up your neck as your hair stands on end and your throat grows suddenly dry. You want to step back or push him away but you… You just don’t.

Sans holds this smouldering gaze a moment longer, seemingly enjoying your fluttering panic before turning away. After a short pause, he sighs and rubs his neck, looking a little unsure of himself.

His voice is back to his more drawling baritone “Hey kid… I uh… I better get going.” He glances at you and tries a smile, quietly adding “Text me and lemme know you’re okay at some point, alright?”

You feel rooted to the spot, unable to choke out words but you manage to shake your head.

Sans blinks at you.

Taking a breath you try and calm your rattled nerves, your brain whirring to try and put together what the hell had just happened – the way he looked at you, _through_ you as if he knew everything – and you attempt a sentence “I’m… I’m sorry.”

The skeleton shuffles his feet, looking away from you “It’s… It’s okay…” he clears his throat “… Wanna talk about it?” he offers once more.

“Yeah… I’m just gonna go get changed first though.” You gesture at your uniform.

Sans nods but doesn’t go to sit down or anything.

The atmosphere is definitely a new level of awkward and the pair of you are practically drowning in it.

********

You’ve taken the time to have a quick shower in your en suite, mostly to cool off your temper and to try relax your muscles – all over you felt so tense like a tightly wound spring that could burst at a feather’s touch.

Sans was… Almost scary at that moment but it wasn’t terror – you just felt somewhat… Endangered: your adrenaline was still doing laps round your body before you got into the shower and you feel a little giddy in the aftermath – in _his_ aftermath.

…

You hurry and finish up.


	14. Smoothing It Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of back and forth fluff is good, right? x3
> 
> Thank you a ton to you guys who have pointed out a few silly mistakes I've made here or there - I have amended them thusly! Don't hesitate if any more are spotted!
> 
> instagram: macaronihero

[ **Heather:** hey girl! How’s it going with the punny guy? Don’t leave me hangin!]

…

[ **Heather:** bet ur having an awesome time – some updates needed woman!]

…

[ **Heather:** I take it u r still out? Gotta get back to me at some point – was thinking that if ur date is going as good as it seems to be that we could totally double date! Let me know what u think]

…

[ **Heather:** it’s pretty late r u home safe yet? Text me xx]

…

[ **Heather:** I tried calling you. Lemme know ur okay plz xx]

…

[ **Heather:** I texted sans. Says ur on ur way home. Glad hes lookin after you xx]

You sigh, feeling awful for not taking even a second to message Heather. Now you have this on top of your already embarrassing song-and-dance at work and your snotty attitude towards Sans when you got back – seems your best defining trait is making a complete asshole-jerk-bitch of yourself to everyone.

Pulling on a Soundgarden band shirt, you clip your hair back and pull on some fluffy pastel blue leggings – you literally have no cares to give on how you look right now and the temptation to shoo Sans out and sit alone eating ice cream is the only thing you want to do; taking a breath, you suck it up and pull together some determination to damn well start clearing up the mess you’ve made; beginning with Heather.

[ **You:** oh heather. Im so sorry. You are my super duper mega-bae and I will call you later today. The date was really great and just so you know how sorry I am for not texting you ill give you an update… Sans stayed over]

You have to throw her a bone, right? Although knowing her she will leap to conclusions like a goddamn base-jumper, so best to make it clear:

[ **You:** he slept on the couch so shush before you even start woman :P] you quickly add.

There’s a tentative knock on your bedroom door and you jump a little. A moment later, Sans’ voice now soft and soothing floats through.

“Hey kiddo – want me to make you lunch?”

A warm feeling prickles inside you but then a dash of guilt poisons it, reminding you how much of a bitch you were and yet _he_ is offering to make _you_ lunch.

You clear your throat and call “N-no it’s okay. I’ll do it. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’ll go see what you’ve got.”

Jumping to your feet, you pull on some socks and rush out of your room in an attempt to beat him to the kitchen and stop him from making you feel even worse. As you step out and face him you see the state of your living room and your mouth just hangs open –

Sans’ Motoran Dragons jersey is splayed on your coffee table next to a toppled empty cup and all your sofa cushions are scattered around, a tattered and worn rucksack is also adorning your table with its contents half spilling onto your floor – toothbrush(es?) three individual socks, a pair of long tracksuit bottoms, a huge bundle of keys with all sorts of keyrings and doodads on it, a pair of boxers with “bone zone” printed on them (funny in any other circumstance) and a black vest are all amongst the messy pile. Your sofa and table are at odd angles and there are two books face down with crooked spines also on your floor, Sans’ phone next to one of them and an empty energy drink can next to the other.

Call the damn fire brigade: your front room is an official bomb site. In disbelief you glance back at your own mess in the bedroom and definitively label it tidy and organised compared to the result of Sans’ one night stay.

_How in the damn hell did I not notice this when I left this morning – or even when I came home twenty minutes ago?_

“So… you have nothing but snacks, noodles and cereal.” Sans speaks as he’s rifling through your cupboards.

“Is that meant to be –” you face him and falter “– a criticism…?”

He doesn’t notice and starts talking about how you should start eating better or something – all you can focus on is his shirtless top-half.

Your eyes can’t help but pry and pry and _pry_ – you can see through him, between each rib and between his shoulder blades; it’s nothing short of mesmerising – his bones move so fluidly, the motion like magic – he looks so smooth and his alabaster bones look somewhat inviting as they glide over each other, stark in contrast to all else almost like they are glowing.

“– are you even listening, kid?” Sans’ voice snaps you to attention and he looks slightly annoyed with a quirk of a frown in his brow, a pair of headphones around his neck make a light clattering noise as they bounce against his collarbones.

You straighten up and do your best to hide your thumping heart, heated skin and burning cheeks; not to mention the wash of guilt you feel as you realise you were rudely staring at him.

“I… Uh… I think I eat fine.” You manage to stutter, doing your best to push the knot in your throat as far down as you can “Besides – you don’t have to eat yourself right? Why’d you care?”

Sans sighs and gives you an eyeroll before stating once more “Because we’re friends.”

“Alright alright. Don’t hound me, jeez.” You grumble, crossing your arms feeling a little conscious that apparently your eating habits are something to be judged “I’ll get some stuff in at some point.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

You cock your head at him and make a face “… But you were just mother-henning me to buy more food?”

Shrugging like he’s just the coolest ice block in the fridge, Sans smirks at you and then his eyes flash blue for an instant.

There’s the sound of a multitude of thumps and rustles and your cupboard doors wobble slightly. Sans opens one of them and it’s stuffed full of tins, packets and pots; a packet of fig biscuits topples out and he catches it in one hand, looking prudently smug.

You close your gaping mouth and then gesture towards him “What the actual hell?”

Chomping on a fig roll Sans shrugs it off like it’s nothing “Papyrus always goes overboard with the food shopping – if he asks where it’s all gone I’ll just tell him it’s a fig-ment of his imagination.” He smugly laughs at his own pun.

“So what – you’re doing my shopping now? I thought you were my boyfriend, not my mum.” You say it cheekily and stick your tongue out at him – and then you gasp as you realise your mouth ran way ahead of your brain just then.

You can’t retract it as Sans is blinking at you wide-eyed, mouth partially open. A tint of blue tinges his cheekbones as he slowly continues eating, eyes darting away from you and to the floor.

The familiar awkward atmosphere rears its head again and you wish you could just swat it away. In the quiet you can hear the thrumming of dim music coming from Sans’ headphones.

After a little longer lingering in discomfort, you attempt to change the subject and jerk your head towards Sans’ mess “This what it’s like at your place?”

With his mouth full (fig rolls are not exactly good for you and you note to call him out on his hypocrisy later) Sans mumbles a somewhat audible response, shaking his head “Noh nhot aht awll – Pahpyruth kheepth the phlath sphotlesth.” He swallows and wipes his mouth on his bare arm “It’s just my room that’s a trashheap.”

You chuckle “You sound so proud.”

Sans beams at you with a cheeky wink and starts grabbing milk and cereal for you. You plop down on one of the breakfast stools and rest your head on your hands “How’d you know I wanted cereal?”

“Magical intuition.” Sans says as he takes a seat opposite you with a cup of coffee, passing you the bowl.

Your brow creases as you focus on him and shrug your shoulders “What does that mean exactly?”

Sans’ eyes are closed as he relishes his first sip of coffee, letting out a contented sigh before answering “Just something we monsters can do, I guess.”

“You guess?”

He shrugs “It’s not like telepathy or mind-reading… But it is?” he shakes his head “I dunno.” He takes another long sip.

You impatiently wait for him to carry on.

He looks at you over the rim of his cup and raises a brow “What?”

“If you’re working some magical hoo-hah on my brain I’d like to know.” You huff.

“I just know stuff.” His eyes dart a way for a brief moment “Sometimes.”

You groan “You really can’t tell me?”

“Eat your cereal.”

Grumbling, you shove a spoonful into your mouth and then pull a face at him, stubborn as you can manage.

Sans sighs “It’s not that I can’t tell you. I just dunno – like you know when you’re feeling hungry? Well it’s like that – you just know.”

“Hmm… How much do you ‘ _just know_ ’” you add air-quotes for an air of sarcasm.

“Only little bits at random times.”

“So you just got an inkling that I had a bad time at work? Even though you were no where near me?”

Sans seems to hesitate, grabs his cup again and nods “Yeah, basically.”

You know there is much more to this than he is letting on but decide to leave it – for now – you’ve already pissed him off and you should be endeavoring to make up for it.

“So,” Sans is giving you a soft, comforting smile “What happened at work?”

Taking a breath, you speak slowly to try and flesh out the feelings you had at the time mostly to yourself rather than trying to explain to Sans – it’s quite possible you hadn’t dealt with the situation as best you could have.

Once you finish, you sulkily look into your soggy cereal feeling embarrassed and disappointed in yourself – you’d finished your recanting of the story by stating that you should not have taken it all so personally but at the time you just saw red.

Sans is quiet for a moment before sheepishly rubbing his neck “Guess I know what just seeing red is like…”

You smile a little.

He sighs deeply before bringing down his usual calm and collected composure – or what you used to see as his typical lazy self but now you know there’s more to it than just that.

“Listen kid – this sort of stuff happens to a lot of people.” He leans back in his chair “Hell if I’d broken a pair of legs for every time it happened to me…” he whistles “It’d become politically incorrect to say they didn’t have a leg to stand on against me.”

You giggle and he grins back at you.

“You just gotta suck it up.” He adds, looking a little more sincere, his eyes lazy but focussed on yours.

Fighting the urge to look away, you stay steady and nod to him “Okay. I will.”

Sans smiles wider and holds his fist out to you “That’s my girl.”

Letting yourself enjoy the tingling of a slight blush on your face, you bump his fist. You feel almost giddy with how good his few words make you feel and after a moment you notice your hand is warm – when you look you see Sans’ hand closed around yours.

Immediately your heart swells and you break out in a hot-chill that shudders up your arms and down your back and look to meet his eyes…

… He’s looking at his phone with a lazy expression, completely ignorant of the fact that he’s actually holding your hand.

The chills quickly die and you look at him, slightly annoyed.

“Heh. Papy’s found out half our kitchen is empty.” Sans chuckles, entirely unaware.

You can’t help but let out a snicker “I’ll pay both of you guys back.”

Sans’ absentmindedly releases your hand to grab his coffee, shaking his head “I said don’t sweat it.”

You scoff “Dude – you took me across the world and back in one night,”

“Heh, pretty awesome, huh?” he says smugly, taking a sip.

You roll your eyes “Yeah, really awesome – I’m not letting you give me a hundred quids worth of shopping too.”

It looks like he’s barely paying attention to you as he continues to drink his coffee and text “Why not?”

“Because that’s not what people do – you can’t just give me all this stuff.”

He shrugs nonchalantly “What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

“… What…?”

“An investigator.”

You blink, dumbfounded before realising he’s just winding you up to get out of having this conversation “Sans! You’re not even listening to me!”

“What’s red and really bad for your teeth?”

“Sans, stop it!”

He’s still not paying any attention to you “A brick.”

You groan, covering your laugh “C’mon, I’m _not_ taking this amount of stuff from you.”

He takes a casual sip of his coffee “What’s good about letting the cat out of the bag?”

“Sans!” you stand up and glare at him, keeping as straight a face as you can manage.

“It’s easier than putting it in.”

Throwing your hands up in the air, you stomp off frustrated but trying to hide a smile “Ugh! You are just _insufferable_.”

Sans watches you with a sarky grin “Heh. Funny that you and Papyrus seem to feel the same way.”


	15. Making A Great Acquaintance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was staring at this chapter title and I swear it's spelled right - I checked and everything! But the word "acquaintance" in all it's forms is one of the worst words I have ever comes across: it looks wrong, it feels wrong and when you type it I feel like the keyboard is disagreeing with me. UGH.
> 
> Instagram: macaronihero

There’s another rumbling roar from the crowd either side of you as you watch both basketball teams thunder down the court, one of the players sprinting with the ball unbelievably fast.

You shut your eyes and brace yourself as does Heather, the pair of you covering your ears just in time as the sound of whipping net sets off an explosive shuddering bellow that fills the stadium.

Sans pumps his fists in the air almost jostling you in his zeal “Get _dunked_ on, losers!” he’s one of the many who haven’t been sitting in their seats for the entire game, his usual laidback demeanour a distant memory as he cheers and jeers as loudly as the rest of the boisterous jocks in the crowd.

You thought it was weird at first – this Sans is a far cry from what you’ve come to know – but seeing him so animated, so determined and focussed lifts your own spirit; neither you and Heather got into the game anywhere near as much as everyone else but you had let out a cheer or two of your own.

Both you and Heather let out a cheer in unison as the gangly, bouncy mascot comes jumping out onto the court, weaving between the players as fast as any of them had ran. He stops in the centre after doing a circle around them and strikes a victory pose, angling his dragon head into the air: a long flicking tongue of redhot flame streams out of the big toothy mouth accompanied by a muffled chortling laugh.

Everyone around you is clapping and some start stomping their feet in a haphazard rhythm, the chant quickly builds in volume: “ _MOTORAN! MOTORAN! MOTORAN!_ ”

Sans is clapping along and lets out an ear-piercing whistle, shooting a thumbs-up which the mascot acknowledges with one of his own.

The energy in the stadium is buzzing and you feel elated – the thoughts of the past few days finally seem like they have been snuffed out: you amended things with Heather (not that she had taken a single offence to your lack of correspondence) over another girly sleep over and you had succumbed to agree to an eventual ‘double date’ with you, her, Kevin and Sans – although you insisted it should be an “outing” and most certainly _not_ a date of any kind. Nevertheless, she was quick to dismiss you and stated that “it is most definitely _so_ a date if all those juicy details you told me about your night out with Sans and his impromptu sleepover are anything to go by!”.

You had gone into work and managed an apology to both Mick and Mr. Geller with the constant support from Sans only a text (and a teleport) away and the result was mediocre at best: Mick remains scared out of his mind of you and scurries out of your way like a feeble deer and Mr. Geller lets his disappointment weigh on you heavily – however, he had sat you down at the end of one particularly long day, wheezing as he cashed up, and thanked you for all your hard work and even stating that he couldn’t of done anything without you. You left work glowing that day and had to motivation to finally invite Heather over for the girly catchup.

And Sans – you hadn’t seen much of him as seemed to be the pattern. Nevertheless, the pair of you were constantly talking and had developed a little routine of a phone call every evening at 9pm – Heather teased you about it till she was purple in the face: “If this isn’t the whole girlfriend-boyfriend shebang, then what is?”

The crowd has died down and some have started to trickle out of the rows and rows of seating while you, Heather and Sans remain for the whole twenty minutes it takes.

A gruff, tattered looking monster with long upturned tusks and a brow that could crush mountains jostled past you roughly as he goes to leave.

“Hey you big lug – watch it!” you shout at him, almost dropping your slushy.

He whirls around and glares at you, snorting nastily but you narrow your eyes and refuse to budge.

_This asshole…_

“Is there a problem.” Sans is now leaning over, his body in contact with your whole back as he steps up behind you.

Tingles dance across your neck.

Heather peers around you both up at the tusk-wielding monster and whispers to you “………, let’s get out of the way.”

You feel like you can stand up to this brute, especially with Sans to back you up, but the air between them both feels a little more dangerous than you’re comfortable with and although the vision of a magic-fuelled battle between powerful monsters sounds cool: you know better.

Giving one last daggered glare, you flick your hair as you step out of your seat and behind Sans with Heather.

“Look, pal,” Sans speaks calmly and even shrugs “You should just move on.”

There’s a low grumbling as the monster snorts a response “You a human’s pet?”

Static crackles in the air and you back away a little as Sans’ fists audibly clench. Your heart pounds as you feel a dark _danger_ in the air – something that you realise is familiar to when Sans has been angry before but somewhat harsher this time. You muster some courage and intervene, Heather clutching your arm begging you to just stay out of it.

Taking a calming breath, you sling an arm around Sans’ shoulder and pull him close while raising your eyebrows at the beastly brute who’s tusks are only a few inches from your face “He’s my boyfriend actually. Got some racism problem or something, buddy?”

The monster’s pointed ears snap back and his whole face softens “Uh…” he looks incredibly sheepish now and wrings his front hooves awkwardly – a complete 180 from a few seconds ago. He clears his throat and offers a hoof to Sans “M’sorry. There’s a lotta hate round recently.”

Sans hesitates before shaking it and cocks his head to the side “What do you mean?”

“Shouldn’t be adding to the hate then, should you?” Heather quips from behind, now standing with her hands on her hips. She gives you a pat on the bum and waggles her brows at your arm over Sans and you swat her away, sticking your tongue out at her.

Sighing, the monster shrugs “It’s in the news all the time, y’know?”

“Gotta make up for other’s mistakes, pal. It’s the only way to move forward.” Sans has his hands in his pockets again also entirely different to a few moments ago.

Walking away, the monster bows his head at you and Heather and lumbers off, having to lift his whole head almost vertical to avoid knocking anyone with his massive tusks.

You frown “Maybe he didn’t mean to bump me – his tusks are pretty huge. Maybe I overreacted…”

“Heh, well so far your track-record precedes ya.”

Heather tuts loudly and punches Sans in the arm “Oh come on, that big guy oughta be used to watching where he sticks those things.”

“Thanks Heather – glad someone is on my side.” You stick your tongue out at Sans.

Heather hops ahead of you, heading down towards the court and as you attempt to go after her, Sans grabs your wrist “Hey…”

You turn to him, impatiently wanting to head down “Yeah?”

“Boyfriend…?”

Deciding to keep cool and not let your whirring dumb-struck brain run away with you, you formulate a calm, collected response “… Yeah?”

_Nailed it._

Sans has a tinge on his cheekbones and takes a moment to level his eyes with yours, other hand fiddling nervously with the edge of his hoodie pocket “Cool.”

You smile and nod then gesture towards the court “We gonna meet your brother or not?”

********

“This is so cool.” Sans’ muffled voice echoes through the mouth of the dragon head and you can’t help but giggle.

“SANS. It is indeed cool but be careful.” Papyrus bellows, standing a good two heads above you and Sans, still in the rest of his mascot suit. Heather is probably a little closer in height to his shoulder but he still towers over the three of you.

“Heh.”

“Well since you’re preoccupied, Sans, _we_ will introduce ourselves!” Heather chimes and she hold her hand out to Papyrus “Hi! I’m Heather – you were so awesome out here!”

Papyrus is practically glowing at the praise and shakes her hand vigorously despite the foam dragon paws “Thank you, human! You have no doubt heard much about me – The great Papyrus!”

Heather nods “Yes indeedy!”

“I know from Sans that you’re a real cool dude.” You smile, offering your hand “I’m …….. – awesome to finally meet you!”

Papyrus looks overjoyed and takes your hand with equal energy “Of course Sans would say that – he is not wrong! And I too have heard much of you both,” Papyrus gestures to you “Especially you, ……….! Sans is always talking about you and –”

“Aha… Enough of that Paps.” Sans quickly steps between you both, taking off the dragon head and passing it to his brother “Wanna show us around?”

Like a light bulb, Papyrus face brightens and he waves in a large arc towards the backroom doors “Brilliant idea, Sans! This way!”

As you’re walking, Heather nudges Sans in the side and wiggles her eyebrows “ _Always_ talking about her, eh?”

“H-heh.” Sans looks away and quickly steps forward to walk beside his brother, stepping over the eagerly swinging foam mascot tail.

Heather then purses her lips as she turns to you, her eyes sparkling as she whispers “………! It’s _happening_!”

“What’s happening?”

She points to Sans and then to you and gushes “You two!”

“Pfft, whatever you weirdo.” But you can’t hide your smile.

The two brothers walk side by side slightly ahead, Papyrus cackling and Sans chuckling as they talk and you can’t help but wonder how they get on so well while being so vastly different – their closeness and Sans’ unwavering love for his brother warms your heart but also leaves you a little melancholy.

As if echoing your thoughts, Heather sighs “I used to wish I had a sibling, you know? Papyrus and Sans are so cute.” She then takes your arm and gives you a big beaming smile “But then again I got you!”

Her sentiment takes you aback slightly “Aww… Heather you’re too kind,” and then you add with a playful sneer “And _so_ lame.”

Heather wrinkles her nose “Just like a big sister would say!”

 _After how I ignored you all evening last week…_ You push the guilt away and decide to continue to work on yourself – just as before; Heather, Sans and now Papyrus are here to help you all the way.

********

Papyrus clambers out of his costume and joins you in the campus café, bursting through the double doors to announce his entrance.

“You must indulge in the confectionary drinks here!” Papyrus exclaims as Sans brings over four milkshakes “They are delicious and I am currently working on recreating them at home!”

Sans sits in his chair, rocking it back on its legs and folding his arms behind his head “Yeah you’re getting better at it, bro – all these boys keep ending up in our yard.”

You were about to take a sip but snort loudly as you laugh, almost inhaling your straw.

Heather pats your back as you choke, giggling.

Papyrus frowns at Sans, looking incredulous “What boys are these? You have not informed me of this, Sans.” After another moment, he narrows his eyes “We do not have a yard.”

Sans shrugs “Nothin’ to get shake-n up about, bro.” and then he winks at you as you recover from practically eating the straw “Guess you’re not a fan of straw-berry?”

You deadpan.

But now Heather is the one who snorts.

“SANS. Are you attempting yet more puns?”

Sans feigns innocence, grabbing his mint green milkshake “No way, Pap. Doin’ nothin’ of the sort.”

 _He’s a lot more laidback around other people… If that’s even a possibility_. You think to yourself and you wonder if the Sans you have been spending time with is more true to himself than this chilled-out lazy quipping version you’re seeing now.

Heather’s gasp interrupts your thoughts “Oh wow! This milkshake is crazy!” she takes another massive gulp “It’s like heaven, I swear - ………., what do you think?”

You take a tentative sip, back of your tongue still hurting from the sharp edge of the straw earlier. A succulently sweet sensation washes over you – your milkshake is pastel pink, topped with candyfloss cream and chocolate flakes, a bright red juicy cherry adorning the top.

“Oh mhy ghod.” You manage to gurgle, mouth full “This _is_ heaven.”

“Human – there is a considerable amount of cream on your face.” Papyrus passes you a napkin.

Heather chuckles at you, nursing her shake to almost half-empty already.

Feeling a little silly, you take the napkin gratefully and then your heart stops when you catch Sans looking at you – and the _way_ he is looking at you makes your knees tremble.

He looks hot and bothered, eyes dark and glued to your mouth, his own open slightly and just visible is the tip of what looks like… A blue tongue? It traces over his teeth briefly before his eyes brighten in realisation and he clamps his mouth shut, tearing his gaze away from you and shoving the straw of his milkshake in his mouth.


	16. Stubborn

“SANS.” Papyrus yells, crossing his arms “Put those condiments back.”

“Aw bro,” Sans pouts.

“Hmph. The humans and I will meet you back in the court – I, the great Papyrus, have been requested to give a tour of my work establishment.”

As you and Heather follow Papyrus back through the hallway, she pulls a face “Why does Sans want all that ketchup and mustard?”

Papyrus sighs “Sans does not eat well and prefers eating sugar-filled condiments and drinking coffee. He has no taste, it seems.”

 _Ah, a raging hypocrite if ever there was one…_ your thoughts purr.

As you re-enter the stadium, Papyrus’ voice echoes loudly as he carries on “I on the other hand am somewhat of a master chef.” He claps a janitor on the back as three of you pass, almost sending the poor man sprawling.

Heather smiles apologetically at the man who grumbles and shuffles away.

“Can’t wait to try your cuisine then, Pap!” she chirps.

“Yeah and if your milkshakes are anything like the ones here you’ll have a hard time getting us outta your house.” You joke.

Heather leans in and whispers “Oooh, I’m _sure_ that’s the only reason you’d be stubborn to leave.”

“Shush, Heather!” you hiss.

Papyrus laughs loudly, oblivious and grabs a basketball from a nearby cart, spinning it deftly on an outstretched finger “It will be an honour to cook for my two new friends!”

“Oh wow, Papyrus – you’re really good.” You admire, watching him switch hands.

“Nyeh heh heh!”

“Hey guys.” Sans is suddenly next to you and you yelp, startled.

“Jeez, where’d you come from?” Heather says, equally surprised.

Sans’ smile widens ever so slightly “Had to mustard up the strength to ketchup to ya.”

You roll your eyes.

“SANS.”

Sans laughs and waves at his brother to pass him the ball “Okay, okay – I can see ya don’t relish my puns.”

Papyrus swats the ball at Sans hard “Nyeh! No – we do not!”

Sans catches it, having to step back at the power behind the throw “You wanna play, bro?” he’s smirking widely, now spinning the ball on one finger as Papyrus had done beforehand.

Heather claps her hands “Ooh – you’re both good! This will be fun to watch.”

You quirk a brow at Sans “You sure you wanna challenge Papyrus? He’s got a _little_ bit of a height advantage in case ya didn’t notice.”

Sans’ eyes narrow a little at your teasing.

“The humans are correct! I have not lost before, brother and my height is indeed to my advantage.” Papyrus poses as if he has already won.

Shrugging off his hoodie, Sans tosses it to you and then cracks his knuckles, facing Papyrus “Heh. Let’s go.”

Sans suddenly thunders down the court, as fast as you had seen Papyrus run earlier and the air gushes past you and Heather after him in his wake.

“Nyeh!” Papyrus has swivelled on his heels and strides after him, catching up with ease.

You and Heather take a seat on one of the benches and watch the boys play a very back and forth game and in the end Papyrus scores one, running about the court as he did earlier in his costume, laughing in his victory.

“Wow, you guys didn’t even break a sweat!” Heather gasps, prodding Papyrus’ forearm once he calms his rejoicing, peering between his radius and ulna.

Papyrus seems entirely unphased at what you see as rude probing “We are skeletons. We do not sweat.” he states and then peers down at Heather “Actually, I do not understand how you humans can deal with it. It is wholly inefficient.”

“We have skin and stuff – we need to sweat.” Heather replies.

Papyrus rubs his chin, intrigued “Tell me more of this skin you have – I have not approached this subject with humans before as Sans insists it is “rude”.” He air quotes with his gloved hands.

The two begin animatedly chatting and you wonder if perhaps asking these sorts of questions about monsters is not entirely rude after all…

Sans takes his hoodie from you and slips it on, taking a seat beside you “Papyrus is right – he’s never lost a game.” He looks like he is dozing but content “Still fun though.”

After a moment you decide to speak “You let him win.”

Startled, Sans eyes snap open and he faces you, querying.

You scoff “Oh come on – maybe not every time but I could see you were holding back.”

“Nah, he got the height, the long legs and the energy.”

Shaking your head, you smirk at him “Call it _magical intuition_ ; I could feel you were going soft on him.”

“…” Sans looks away from you.

“… Sans?”

He lets out a long breath and picks at his hoodie sleeve “How would you know that?”

You shrug, not thinking much of it “Guess I know you well enough.”

Sans gets up without a word and calls over to Papyrus and Heather “C’mon guys – let’s grab some food.”

********

The four of you wonder around the corner and head to a local monster-run pub called “The Dog and Dog”. It has a tudor-esque design outside and in, high ceiling with mighty black wooden beams streaking across it, the wood so thick it fills the building with a heady soil-like smell. Neither you nor Heather had been here before since it’s on the outskirts of Motoran as is the university and had been a short train journey away from your area. The rolling hills of the countryside could be seen over the tops of low rooftops making up the outer suburbs of the relatively small town.

It would all be very refreshing and enjoyable if Sans hadn’t completely cold-shouldered you earlier.

Heather had of course noticed your mood after the skele-bro’s basketball game and you had taken a moment to try and explain what had happened although you found little comfort in her equal bafflement at Sans’ choice of actions.

Nevertheless, you are determined to keep up a positive front if not for Papyrus than to show Sans that you are not the least bit perturbed by his – as you put it – “absolutely unwarranted dickishness”.

Even though you are extremely perturbed: _extremely_ – keeping your irked temper in check is indeed a mighty feat but Heather’s bouncy attitude and Papyrus’ loud nature help you to keep your focus positive.

On the way to The Dog And Dog you had attempted to approach Sans and asked him if he was alright to which he didn’t utter a word and just shrugged you off – his blatant ignorance was unbelievable and even Heather had agreed and prompted you to no longer bother.

And you damn hell were not going to bother _one bit_.

Not at all.

The four of you sit at a large black table, the wood knobbly and notched but smooth to the touch. Heather places herself between Papyrus and Sans so the only seat for you is next to the sulking bag of bones – you nod slightly at Heather acknowledging her ‘be awesome and aloof plan’ and make a point of pulling out your chair and plopping down with a bouncy smile.

“I usually insist on cooking a hearty dinner every night but even the great Papyrus needs a night off once in a while!” Papyrus chortles.

“This place is great! I feel so snug and at home” Heather sighs happily, bathing in the warm glow of the fireplace she is sitting near.

You hide a smirk as you nod at Papyrus, raising your voice slightly so Sans definitely hears you over the hum of the other patrons (and his massive ignorant dickishness) “You gotta take us girls out more often, Pap. You’ve got great taste.” You purr.

“Nyeh heh heh!” Papyrus grins “Of course! Sans and I have been looking forward to both your company for the few weeks he has been talking about you!”

“Aww _shucks_ ,” you lean into Sans “It’s so nice that we’re already such good friends.”

The stubborn monster mumbles an inaudible response, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed not giving away the slightest aggravation.

You mutter under your breath so the others won’t hear “Nice to know that this is how you treat your supposed friends.”

You look away and animatedly start a conversation with both Heather and Papyrus but you catch Sans open one angry eye and can feel it watching you the whole evening.

********

“No no no – allow me!” You wiggle your finger, putting a hand on Heather’s shoulder “You got the first round.”

Her curls bounce as she shakes her head “Oh okay then – I’ll have another buck’s fizz!”

“Another dogchocolate, please!” Papyrus calls.

You glance at Sans and see he already has a rum and coke in his hand, more ice than anything else – where did he get that from? – and promptly turn away to hop up to the bar. You had ordered your food about ten minutes ago and it hopefully will be making its way out any moment now. You take your opportune vantage point at the bar to scowl at Sans who has made barely any conversation since you had been here. Papyrus has somehow remained aloof of his brother’s mood and you get the feeling he probably never notices it – as for Heather she and Papyrus had been chatting up a storm, which is probably the only saving grace of the evening: it is just as enjoyable to watch than to join in; at one point you had felt Sans’ mood lighten and heard a light warm chuckle as the two bouncy characters chatted, and you watched him crack open a lazy eye to watch.

 _… Maybe I shouldn’t be so irate…_ Your mind wonders _Of course Heather backs me up – she doesn’t know Sans like I do yet… So maybe I should know better than to be so… So pissed._

“Anyone there?” the bartender yips, making you jump and turn to face him – his eyes lock on to you and he manages a half-smile “Hello human.” He mumbles over a dog-biscuit between his slobbery lips.

“Oh! Hey, I didn’t see you.”

The dog’s eyes narrow at you and he crunches his biscuit “… That some sort of joke?”

You shake your head hurriedly “N-no just… Uh… Can I order?”

He follows every motion you make and after a moment of seemingly mulling over your request (you: the actual customer) he nods but says nothing.

As you venture to make your request he suddenly barks:

“Hey. Where’d you go?” he’s sniffing the air and growls loudly “Damn humans just disappearing.” And he walks off in a huff.

Blinking with your hands in the air in an exasperated gesture, you watch him leave “Wh-what?”

You slowly venture back to your table and relay the event.

Heather frowns “I didn’t get served by anyone who looked like a husky – I had a tall white dog in a cloak with a moustache.”

“Human.” Papyrus addresses you “That fine furred friend is Doggo and he cannot see. You must move around for him to see you.” he states it as if it’s some widely known fact and then adds with a nonchalant shrug “I just spin in consistent concentric circles when we talk.”

“Okay well I guess I’ll go try again…” you murmur, feeling more than a little silly and frustrated.

“I’ll come with.” Sans stands and walks ahead of you, adding on with a mumble “You’ve probably pissed him off anyway.”

You grit your teeth and stomp after him “How the hell am I supposed to know this, hmm? You seem to think I’m an expert on you monsters.”

Sans gives you a sideways glance and sneers “ _Us_ monsters, eh?”

You groan and slam your fist on the bar “Dammit Sans I’ve been patient enough, stop playing games.”

Sans left eye flares blue for an instant and suddenly the pair of you are outside, sheltered in an alleyway at the side of the pub. He wastes no time and pushes you against the smooth concrete wall, closing the gap between you so there’s only inches left.

The impact on the cold wall makes you hiss slightly “Fuck, Sans you asshole.” You shove him away “What gives?”

In the shade, he is barely visible and the dying light of the sunset makes this more so – his eyes are the only things which actually stand out, them and a faint bluish glow from the lower half of his face…

And beneath the cloth of his shirt.

Instinctively, you reach out before you can stop yourself and your fingers graze the area of Sans’ chest where the glow seems to be coming from, but you flinch away when you notice his shoulders rising and falling, you can hear his ragged breaths and you can see his half-lidded eyes rooting you in place.

You swallow a big slightly panicked lump in your throat and mange to sidestep away from the wall “Sans… What gives?” you say once more.

The caution in your voice seems to ring true and Sans regains some of his composure, looking somewhat abashed. The glow remains however.

You stay quiet, being patient and giving him time to hopefully explain – he knows that he can’t shrug _this_ one off.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sans slumps against the wall, exhaling slowly as he does so. After a moment, he chances a glance up at you and pats the floor next to him.

The slight tinge of fear still grips you but you push through it and sit next to him, making a point to leave a clear amount of space between you. You hug your knees to your chest and lean your cheek on them, willing him to start talking.

Surprising you once more with how many layers this bare-bones skeleton has; Sans twiddles his fingers in his lap, looking like a pitiful puppy in a corner with the occasional small glance over at you.

“I got scared.” He speaks slowly, unsure of himself. He takes his time as he continues “You said you knew me. As if you could know anyone enough to know their magic.”

Frowning you respond “But… You know – getting to know people is what being a friend is about. How is this different?”

Sans smiles slightly and scolds himself “There I go – expecting you to just know about us monsters and whatnot…” he rests his chin on one of his hands with a slight clatter “Heh. Guess you were right.”

He pauses a moment more before giving you a sincere look “I’m sorry.”

A chilling breeze ruffles your thin cardigan and you shiver slightly, remaining quiet so he can continue. But your heart jumps a little as you watch him shrug off his hoodie and lay it around you.

After a calm silence, Sans continues “Magic is really personal to us.” His voice is deep, almost lulling in your now cosy state and you close your eyes as you listen “You can’t just know it.” He sighs, rubbing his temples “Or at least I thought you couldn’t. Anyway – what you said, if it’s true, carries a whole load of weight.” He puts an arm around you and cups your chin, once your eyes flutter open he carries on “And I don’t think it’s something you want.”

Your words come out freely, the scent of him filling your lungs and making your head swim “How do you know?”

Sans’ breath hitches and his mouth quivers, slightly open and you see the enigmatic blue glow in your peripherals. There’s a pull you feel and you give in: his voice, his scent, his humming aura all beckoning you forward…

You meet cold air.

You’re alone in the alleyway and it’s dark all around, the only light you were able to see by was Sans and now the shadows around you look jagged and nasty. All you can think to do is pull his jacket tighter around you and blink away confused, angry tears.


	17. A Side You Don't Want To See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all the chiding a lot of you have given Sans for being such a dick to reader - he deserves a good scolding! Everyone grab a paddle, let's spank some bones!
> 
> instagram: macaronihero

[ **Sans:** hey… uu ok?]

Tossing your phone down on the sofa, you flop down next to it and just stare.

You have just gotten home and had managed to persuade Heather that you were okay so she would leave you at you the entrance to your block of flats – despite her concern, she knows when you need your space and you are always so grateful to her each time – and also to her raging vindication to drag Sans’ here by the scruff of his hoodie if he didn’t apologise to you before the evening is over.

Earlier at the pub, you had wondered back in and sat down as if nothing off-kilter had happened, saying you had gotten stuck looking for toilet roll in the ladies room. Sans re-joined you all shortly after and followed suit in carrying on as if nothing had been amiss, which somewhat hurt you more than when he was being a jerk – what’s more: you noticed that although Papyrus had asked you where you had gone, not once did he extend any similar concern to his brother.

Almost as if he knew not to ask.

With a grumble, you pull your shoes off and throw them behind you and flick  on the telly, propping your legs up on your coffee table – it and the sofa are still at the angles Sans had left them at when he was over; it works better this way for your lazy needs.

 _Just… Get out of my head._ You mutter to yourself.

You manage to lose yourself to a monotonous documentary about ants for the best part of an hour before your phone buzzes. You will yourself not to pick it up but dammit; you’re just not strong enough, not today at least.

[ **Sans:** we need to talkkk]

“Yeah well you’re the one who pulled a Houdini…” you growl, tossing it back down without hesitation. You peel yourself off the sofa with a grunt, stripping off your “pretty” clothes that Heather had chosen for this outing to meet Papyrus, and pull on some airy unicorn-theme pajamas, shoving your hair back in a tight headband, slipping on some fluffy slippers and even taking the time to slap on a facemask.

You complete your look with a tub of ice cream that you try and forget was actually given to you as part of Sans’ impromptu ‘shopping trip’ from when he was last here...

_BZZZT…_

Gritting your teeth, you look to see what else the bonehead has written and spot that there are two messages: one shortly before you changed into slob-mode.

[ **Sans:** well imm prety gud at magicc]

…

And the new one:

[ **Sans:** gota gud lookkk goin on]

“What the actual fuck.” You yelp and start looking around, pulling your legs up onto the sofa “Fuck it Sans – are you… Here? This is some high-level creepy stalker shit right now.”

Chills run up your spine and only make you shiver more when you remind yourself that having a locked front door means nothing with this guy.

_BZZT…_

[ **Sans:** calm yor tits kiddk]

“… Are you drunk, Sans?” you feel stupid for talking to thin air.

After a moment he responds, your phone vibrating again:

[ **Sans:** yuppp]

You keep yourself in a tight ball, still watching around you in all directions “… Can you stop? It’s seriously freaking me out.”

A minute goes by with nothing.

After a few more, you calm down and venture to turn up the volume on the telly and reach for your slightly warm ice cream.

There’s what sounds like a tearing noise and Sans flops out of thin air and lands in a heap on the floor right in front of your television.

Frozen, you blink stupidly and after a moment your ice cream slips off your spoon and onto the floor.

Sans groans and looks up, spying the spilled ice cream from under the table “Heyyy… You gonna eat that?”

Above him is a jagged white line, barely visible but it’s almost painful for your eyes to look at and you do your best to avoid it after snapping to your senses.

“Sans. What the fuck are you doing?” you yell, throwing your spoon at him.

It narrowly misses him much to your chagrin.

He manages to get to his feet and squints at the tear in the air above him “Y-you should get _that_ fixed.” He wobbles as he points at it and then the television – the programme about fire ants still playing, and then he looks at you “This. _This_ is how ya get ants.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“S’okay – I’ll clossse it for ya.” Sans stumbles as he tries to snap his fingers, fumbling a few times before managing it and the hairline fracture in the air disappears. He turns and sort of bows looking pleased with himself.

You say nothing and fold your arms, eyes now glaring at him… Although, now you’re looking; they can’t help but stray:

Sans straightens himself up and massages his temples – he’s only in a pair of boxers stretched across his hip bones that peak just above the waistline fabric,  the motif of a warning sign and hazard tape is smack dab in the middle stating to “pull down in case of emergency”. There’s also a faintly glowing blue tinge within his ribcage that you can’t quite define.

Yawning widely – toothily – Sans gives you a lazy smirk “Sorryy to jusst… _Drop_ in.”

“No, Sans.” Is all you say, keeping a level tone.

His playful smile fades and he now looks groggy, tired and annoyed “Pfft whoo broke your funnyyybone, then?” he waves a dismissive hand at you.

“You’ve been telepathically harassing me, scaring me shitless and then you invade my home by what I can only assume is hopping through _space_?” You speak quickly, incredulous.

“Heh. It’sss more like… Uh…” he scratches his head and shrugs “I forgot.”

You stand a poke him in the sternum “And worst of all: you left me in a cold dark alleyway!”

He snorts a laugh at your poking “Quit iiit – it tickles.”

“Oh you are just such a –”

Sans prods your cheek “I like your face.”

…

You’re too frustrated to feel abashed by the fact you’re still wearing your thick grey facemask and swat his hand away.

_… I guess I should take his past advice and just ‘suck it up’…_

Without saying another word, you head over to your kitchen and fix yourself and Sans a cup of coffee, pouting as you put away your gooey ice cream for another day. You feel so drained that you just can’t quite manage to be as angry as you surely should be with him right now – especially for wasting some of your ice cream. There is a clatter behind you as he stumbles over your coffee table and lands face first on your sofa with a grunt. You leave him there, just shaking your head at him as the coffee brews and take a moment to quickly wash your face mask off – hopefully he’s drunk enough to forget he saw that.

Once done, it seems the strong caffeinated aroma helps revive the groggy skeleton enough for him to sit up and eagerly accept the cup from you, guzzling a few mouthfuls straight away.

“Doesn’t that burn your tongue?” You curiously venture.

Sans opens his mouth _wide_ and your stomach wriggles as you see four gleaming pointed teeth amongst the rest and a glowing, pulsing blue tongue.

“Oh… Okay…” you clear your throat “You can close your mouth now, Sans.”

“Ehh?” he says, saliva pooling at the tip of his ghostly tongue.

“Eww, just… Just shut your mouth you weirdo.”

Sans does so, wiping spit away on his arm and blinking at you blearily. After a moment he frowns “… Why am I here?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

_At least he’s somewhat sober now…_

Sans shakes his head and rubs his neck, cracking his vertebrae as he does so “I remember drinkin’ at The Dog n Dog… Papyrus nagged me to go home…” he frowns, pondering “He made me have a shower…”

Impatient and feeling tired yourself, you snap “Just apologise to me already and go home.”

Sans’ bleariness seems to clear and he’s now looking at you.

…

He closes the space between you, climbing onto you and pushing you down into the sofa, his face hovering just above yours, his eyes are searching but unreadable.

You’re a moth in a dazzling room, helpless and enamoured.

Sans voice is husky, rumbling through your bones “Here’s my apology.”

A flurry of goosebumps sends a deep pulse through your core and your breath hitches in your throat – and Sans takes your parted lips as his invitation.

His mouth bumps against your lips a little clumsily but warm and gentle – the kiss is small and a little underwhelming but you can hear his breathing is ragged with nerves, his bones slightly clammy and his cheekbones alight in a brilliant blue. Above you, his body is rigid and tense like an over-tightened spring.

_This guy – this cheeky, laidback lazybones is practically shaking he’s so nervous._

Your heart melts at the realisation of the courage he has taken to make his move and you can’t help but break out in a smile, touching your forehead to his, your eyes searching his in wonderment.

Sans’ face pales and his expression starts to look panicked.

You raise your finger to his mouth, placing it gently in the centre and shush him softly then place your other hand on his burning cheek. There’s a hum in his bones at your touch and his eyes half-close as his leans into your hand.

Now it’s your turn to chance a second attempt – you tilt your head and let your mouth meet his own once more but with a little more force, cupping his face with your hand in soft encouragement. His breath washes over you as he parts his mouth a little; tentatively pushing back against your soft lips.

Your curiosity has turned a darker lustful shade and you mischievously place your tongue between the contact you’ve made so it grazes his teeth and you tingle at Sans’ response; he shudders and after a moment he pushes his body into yours, taking your mouth in his a bit more expertly…

… A painful spark sears your bottom lip and you jerk away, both crying out in pain as your teeth bang together.

“Wh-what the hell was that?” you whine, sucking on your lip and rubbing your jaw. You pull yourself out from under him and curl up, feeling a little indignant at the sudden interruption.

Sans, clicks his own jaw and then reaches out and massages the base of your neck before sheepishly replying “Sorry… I’ve never kissed a human before.”

“Was that your tongue that stung me?” you hide the floods of disappointment that are washing over you.

Sans nods and then breaks out in a smug grin “… Disappointed?”

You shove his arm away, abashed “Pfft no…”

He leans in and his voice is like quicksilver against your ears as he whispers “You’ll get used to it.” He tries to push you back down, coming in close once more.

“H-hey wait a sec…” You choke out, angling your face away from him “Your tongue _burned_ me, dude!”

Sans ignores you, smirking toothily as he flattens himself against you – the edges of his bony body poke you and pin you down.

“Sans!” You bark, giving him as hard a shove you can manage.

In an instant, Sans’ eyes flare and he _growls_ right in your face – your heart stops and your blood runs ice cold, a scream just ready to burst out of your throat.

– and just as quickly as he snapped, Sans’ face immediately softens and he retracts back from you.

You tremble but don’t move; your pulse beating so hard your ears are ringing.

Sans jerks away from you as if stung, looking down at his hands – a moment later his face darkens and his own trembling stops.

His words sound pained “I didn’t mean to…”

Sitting up, you hug your legs tight but your muscles are all bunched and ready to spring away from the monster sitting only a few inches from you in a split second’s notice – right now you feel like the stupidest rabbit quivering in the shadow of a wolf. Tears are hot behind your eyes but you take a breath to stifle them and any waiting sobs.

“You didn’t mean to _what_?” you take another calming breath “Didn’t mean to snap at me like a _dog_?”

Sans flinches and he looks at you.

“What!” you shout, anger broiling.

He snatches your hand between his and plants a kiss on your forehead. He whispers another apology before disappearing right in front of you.

Your hand is still half-raised and tingling from his tender touch.


	18. Overcome

“Wow.” You blink stupidly, not quite taking in what Mr. Geller has just said.

He raises a wrinkly eyebrow at your seemingly lackluster reaction “I thought you’d be more excited – I know it’s what I’ve been waiting for since I opened this place but you’ve been here almost since the beginning too.” He huffs “Guess it’s all that rap music you kids listen to; numbs your senses.”

You snort “As if.” You know he’s only joking as he calls any of the music you listen to ‘rap’ just to wind you up.

“Well when I told you that we’re expanding the store – I expect a little more than that.”

Your heart jumps as he says it again and you feel the bubbling of childish glee; but remembering what had happened last night puts a downer on your excitement before it even sparks.

You force a smile “It’s awesome, Mr. Geller. It really is!”

Cleo rumbles from her comfy perch in Mr. Geller’s arms as he chuckles “Sure is – I’ve been begging the council to give us permission for months, tight buggers.”

“Tight? Coming from you?” you scoff “If they are so bad compared to you, gimme a pay rise!”

“No way, kiddo.”

You pout “Thought I’d give it a try.” You glance around the store to spot any awaiting customers before carrying on, grabbing a polish cloth and wiping down the front of the counter as to keep busy “So what are we expecting? Snakes? Bearded dragons?”

Mr. Geller claps his hands “More than that.”

Peering up above the counter at him, you quirk an eyebrow “… How much is this store expanding?”

Now the childish glee flickers in the old coot’s eyes and he leans forward slightly “I’ve received the lease for the flat next door, upstairs and down.”

“Wait… That means we’ll be three times as big…” you are standing now, the thoughts of yesterday temporarily gone as the exciting realisation dawns.

“Four times – I measured the exact floor space – and I’ve been busy networking.” Mr. Geller looks somewhat smug; he may be on the other side of the hill in terms of age but he isn’t stuck in the past like most – heck, the old badger had more gadgets than most spoilt brats these days and he knew how to use them.

“You mean shelters?” you gasp, your intrigue present in your words.

He nods and fishes out a thick folder filled from under the till filled to bursting with signed documents, licenses and certificates. He hands it to you and you practically snatch it from his knobbly hand.

Animal shelters from across the local area; top-notch, qualified, certified and practiced breeders for almost every animal you can think of – the store will be an integral part of a large animal rescue and pet breeding operation spanning the entire region.

As you flip through the file you see parrots, puppies, cats, snakes, rabbits… All sorts and then you spot ferrets in the mix also – your mind flashes to Papyrus and his looming birthday in around a week’s time.

_That’s it! The perfect pet for someone as boundlessly energetic as Papyrus._

********

“A ferret is such a good idea!” Heather gushes down the phone “It suits his character to a ‘T’!”

You can’t help grinning “I know – I’m a genius right?”

“Alright, Miss Ego – now you gotta help me find something to get him too. I got _no_ clue.”

Biting your lip, your great plan’s major fault plays on your mind “Well, actually… It’s the perfect pet, sure – but I was actually supposed to help Sans decide on a pet for Pap since it was his idea.”

“Ah…” Heather sighs “You… You gonna tell him or…?”

You shake your head and rest your head on your pillow, lying atop your permanently unmade bed “How can I?”

Heather hums in agreement “It’s defo awkward – after how much of an asshat he was being yesterday.”

Wincing, you hold your tongue – you had decided to keep Sans’ drunken late night visit a secret and felt somewhat guilty for hiding it; although one thing remains certain: Sans is still an asshat regardless of how much you tell Heather.

She carries on despite your silence, taking it as worry “I know I said to just rise above it and all… But maybe you should reach out to him?”

“What do you mean?”

Heather pauses as she thinks her words through “Like… You’re both like the immovable object against the unstoppable force.” She giggles “As in you’re both stubborn as _hell_.”

You grumble “Your point?”

“He’s pissed at something and won’t tell you. So you naturally don’t want to bother asking since: why should you? And it becomes a cycle.”

Your frown, pondering as you listen.

“One of you has to give in or you’ll never fix anything.”

Yesterday plays back in your mind – you had to push and push and _push_ to get an answer out of Sans who seemed quite content to never speak and give you the permanent cold shoulder: if you hadn’t pushed and he hadn’t given in then… Would you still be at odds? He had done the same before, when you stormed out of work; he pushed you until you told him.

_I want to be there for him – that’s why I pushed him – that’s why I tried so hard… He must be doing the same._

“– and maybe you just have to bite the bullet and take initiative, you know?”

You stutter, Heather’s words muddling your head “Take initiative?”

Heather groans – you must have missed almost all of what she had said “Do what you don’t feel like doing – be ahead of the game, missy! Be ahead of your own feelings and come out on top!” she sounds like a motivational speaker.

You can’t help but laugh “Okay okay… So I just have to be a doormat?”

“No!” she exclaims, her exasperation humorous “Be wise – be smart! Learn from your mistakes and soon he will learn from his. I know it! It’s how relationships work.”

Her words ring true to you but there is also a sense of fear within you after last night – and that is something that Heather can’t help you with: it’s something you have to figure out on your own.

Grateful for her help otherwise, you decide to change the subject and leave the niggling fear behind for just a little longer:

“You’re so great Heather… Did you get all this knowledge from your current monster-man?” you tease.

A chorus of giggles and a squeal answer you.

********

[ **You:** hey. how’s it going?]

… _No._

[ **You:** heyaaa what’s up?]

_Pfft._

[ **You:** how’s it, bone bag?]

… _What the fuck am I doing…_

[ **You:** hi]

_…_

With a sigh, you flop your head onto your kitchen counter, the cool ceramic offering slight relief; you have been constructing this text message for ten minutes as if it carries some promise of fixing everything and the frustrating knowledge that _you_ are the one making first contact after what happened last night is already running your temper short.

_This is a fucking waste of time… It should be him texting me. I’m not the bipolar asshole!_

Heather’s words run in your thoughts again and you take a moment to flip through your picture gallery, seeing many selfies of the two of you that you’d made special effort to take ever since you got back in touch. Her energy and hopefulness is infectious just through her happy-go-lucky expressions.

_As crazy as this girl is – she knows what she is talking about…_

You come across one of you both drunk at Good Times club from ages ago and see that you had also grabbed Sans into the picture, your arm hooked around his neck tightly as you jerked him into frame – his face is sheepish and shy.

_I need to be more understanding… Sans was patient with me when I was a jerk to him after we first met._

You take a breath, calming yourself. You feel awash with determination.

 _Time to grow up_.

[ **You:** why don’t we meet somewhere? grab a coffee or something]

Taking this first step lifts your spirit somewhat. You take a moment to go through your pictures again, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders – the fear is still there after the scare Sans had given you but he deserved your patience much more than you had deserved his in the beginning.

You start pottering around your home, tidying bits and pieces, going through your wardrobe, peeking into untouched boxes from when you had moved in years ago – you soon lose yourself in a little productive spurt of activity and don’t notice your phone light up only a minute or so after you sent the equivalent of the olive branch…

[ **Sans:** sure. when were you thinkin?]

[ **Sans:** think we should both go for a cup of positivitea :P]

********

The heat from your mango-scented tea tickles your chin as you hover over it, keeping an anxious look out for Sans – he’s fifteen minutes late. Your more patient, understanding and calmer persona from last night is almost about to walk out the door – you had suggested meeting before work, your shift starting from 3pm to do stock count – it’s almost twelve.

Your nerves are niggling at you as well – this meeting could very well be extraordinarily awkward after how Sans had left you that night; growling at your perhaps-girlfriend after leaving her in an alleyway and going Houdini on her twice in one day isn’t exactly a good foothold on which to see each other again.

And your nerves jostle as you spot him enter the café, a little heat entering your cheeks; he comes in looking as cool as a cucumber, jacket tied around his waist and a beanie hat sitting loosely slanted on his head. He spots you and makes his way over, his shirt (sporting the logo for a monster band called “The Hyper-Deaths”) hangs loosely about his frame but memories of what is just beneath the thin cloth have you finding it difficult to tear your eyes away.

“Hey.” He says as he takes a seat opposite you.

“H-heya…”

…

_Oh shit. I didn’t think this far._

Sans’ cool demeanour barely falters as he clears his throat, leaning back in his chair “Better latte than never, right?”

Your laugh comes out a little too readily “Hah…” and your mind swells to find a way to fill any and all silence “D’you hear the one about how Moses makes coffee? H-hebrews it.”

Sans cocks his head “Who’s Moses?”

You falter and then just grumble in defeat “Ugh nevermind.”

“… Sure.”

_Dammit – being angry is so much easier. I don’t know what to frigging say!_

“So – got some good news,” you begin hesitantly, unsure if it’s a good idea to put off the actual talking you both need to do “got an idea for Papyrus’s perfect pet.”

Sans mouth quirks in a smile “Try saying that three times fast,” he sits up “What did you have in mind?”

You explain briefly about the store expansion and Sans’ face lights up.

“………, that’s pretty awesome for you – you’re incredible with animals.” He grins “Betcha you’re stoked.”

You blush at the compliment “Oh yeah, no doubt but… We’re getting all sorts of pets in which include,” you can’t hide a grin knowing the idea is so perfect “Ferrets.”

Sans rubs his chin “A ferret?”

You nod, feeling more confident now the subject is within your knowledge “Ferrets are energetic, intelligent and versatile. Larger than life just like Papyrus! Easy to care for and super loyal.”

“Heh – just like Pap.” Sans chuckles and then he gives you a big smile “It’s a great idea. Will you pick one out for him?”

“Me? But… It’s your present.” You frown.

Sans shrugs “I think you’ll know best which one will suit ‘em.” He adds a cheeky smirk “I got faith in ya.”

You roll your eyes “No pressure then, eh?”

“Nah – all the pressure. I expect the best.” Sans deadpans, a slight tug of a smile betraying his teasing.

“This is the thanks I get for doing you a favour,” you pretend to huff indignantly “I thought trusting a skeleton was a good idea.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you can see right through them.” You poke your tongue out.

The pair of you laugh, feeling genuinely comfortable – then comes the moment of you are both here for:

Sans turns away from you slightly but maintains some inconsistent eye contact, looking away every few moments unsure of himself – quite a strange sight when you take into consideration that he’s in his most laid-back getup yet.

“I shouldn’t of gone Houdini on ya…” he says, leaning forward “It’s just instinct – to just disappear when you don’t know what else to do.”

“I guess I’d do the same if I could disappear like you.” You fiddle with your hoodie sleeves under the table as you listen.

Sans nods “Can be addicting too so… Monitoring that can be hard.”

A waiter comes over and places a large mug of the black sludge coffee that Sans adores so much – he doesn’t need to order here as he’s cemented himself as a regular.

He continues, looking unappetisingly at the mug in front of him “Not every monster and every human are similar – there’s a skele-ton of mixed couples these days…”

 _Are you talking about us Sans?_ Your mind races and you keep yourself focused by picking a stray thread your fingers have found.

“Some of them work and some of them don’t.” he sighs and rubs his forehead, looking forlorn “In a lot of cases it’s better if they just don’t mix.”

A rock hard lump lodges itself between your vocal chords and you have to open your mouth to breathe.

“There’s a lot of stuff we all don’t know about yet about how these kinda relationships work. It’s uncharted territory.”

 _Just say it Sans, for fuck’s sake._ You try and reclaim some of your temper to help prepare you for what you are sure is coming _I’m the one taking the big leap of faith here after your shitshow last night_.

His eyes meet yours, his mouth a tight line. You can’t determine any expression on his face and as the moments tick by this impenetrable façade begins to unnerve you.

Sans voice rings deep, almost as if he’s talking softly into your ear and his words are tender “I know you’ve pushed yourself to cover your own flaws.”

Your eyes widen when you realise his mouth is still closed, unmoving. Your skin prickles and when he speaks again the resonance of his voice comes with an underlying soothing purr:

“You stepped out of all of your comfort zones. You gave me your trust so readily. You gave me all of you and you also gave me your resolve. You want to better yourself for not just your friends – but for me. Now I need to return the favour.”

Sans sits up and leans across the table, firmly pressing his mouth to yours; the kiss is brief standing as a statement to affirm his words – he pulls back slightly, looking dazed, almost hypnotised.

Your face is equally subdued, your stomach wriggling, your head buzzing, your skin flushed.

After a moment, Sans focusses back on you and gives you his signature grin..

“You’ve been ready to venture into this uncharted territory for a while, haven’t ya?”

After a moment, the blood rushes back into your head and your mind settles a little although still swimming – yearning to hear the silver of his voice within you once more. Your eyes search his and all you can do is let out a small relieved laugh.

“What gave it away?” you bite your lip before laughing some more.

Sans touches his forehead to yours and laughs too “Call it magical intuition.”


	19. Cat & Mouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

“Can… Can I see you later?” Sans asked shyly, looking down at his sneakers – with an adorable blushing skeleton like that, how could you even consider saying no? And you agreed before even taking a split second to think about it.

Seeing him so sheepish, so unsure and nervous has left this parting scene from earlier branded into your head, and you flick back to remembering it every half hour or so as you mundanely trudge through backstock. Your daydreaming has you making slow progress.

Mr. Geller thanks you as he leaves once it reaches closing time; it’s not much but still welcome – and then it’s just you, the pets and Cleo, who was last seen flicking one of the pens you dropped across the store – good thing you have one behind each ear, prepared for her usual shenanigans.

You feel a little frustrated at your slow pace, flipping through your clipboard to see you’ve only covered three out of twenty pages of inventory: Sans is meeting you when you’re finished, which is great – but not if it’s in a hundred years’ time.

With a grumble, you push on starting to be irked by your mind reminding you of the cute punny skeleton – your not quite official boyfriend – is meeting you when you finish – in a few hours –

_Hurry the fuck up, woman!_

You try and pick up momentum but your temper is tested as Cleo jumps into yet another box of stock you just opened.

“Dammit, cat!” you grumble.

After another hour, your patience is wafer-thin and you’ve started shunting stock around with some spiteful kicks – there’s a hell of a lot more to do this month since Mick botched it last time and once more: you’re picking up his slack.

 _At least Mr. Geller said thank you…_ you feebly attempt to console yourself somewhat.

A tingling wave washes over you, prickling your skin and you let out a startled yelp when you hear a voice accompany it:

“What’s getting’ you so worked up?”

You glance around before remembering that apparently Sans can frolic through the meadows of your mind whenever he wants.

“You having a good nose in my head, are you?” You grumble “I’m working here.”

Sans’ chuckle rumbles the inside of your skull in a purring echo “Just checkin’ in on your angry red vibes you’re sending me.”

You frown “I ain’t sending you shit. I’m trying to get this all done because you want to hang out after, remember?”

“I remember – no pressure.” You can hear a smirk behind his teasing “And yeah – you’re like a raging lighthouse right now, can’t ignore a bright red beacon like you when you’re on the warpath.”

“I’m not _that_ fucking mad!” You shout at thin air. After a moment, feeling suddenly silly for talking at nothing, you throw your hands in the air and carry on working although you can just hear Sans is tuned in the whole time. His presence at this point in time is like that of a fly in your soup.

“I don’t think I gave you permission to just flick through my mind like a damn book.” You grumble quietly, shoving some of the boxes back into the stock room.

“That’s not what I’m doin’.”

You scoff “Whatever – you do whatever you want with your telepathy and hocus pocus and I don’t factor into that, clearly.” And truthfully, his invasive nosing does leave you feeling somewhat violated – could he know that you’d been replaying seeing him earlier over and over again?

He pauses, sounding a little taken aback “Is it upsettin’ you?”

“Hmm – having someone show up whenever they want either in my frigging head or actually at my home?” your sarcasm is laced with the frustration from your work so far “Nah, that isn’t upsetting at all.”

Sans sighs and then you feel his mood too – but it isn’t negative “I guess I gotta lot to learn with humans still – I’m just used to usin’ magic all the time.”

His cool-headed attitude helps soothe your own and you feel some of the tension ebb away. You playfully reply “Yeah, you lazy sack of bones.”

“If you really don’t like it, I won’t do this again.”

You stop mid box-lift – you _liked_ his voice within you, it tickles your bones and warms you throughout when he uses it a certain way…

Chucking the last box on top of the rest, you clear your throat “Well so long as you’re not looking anywhere you’re not supposed to.”

There’s an approving hum as he replies and you can tell he is more than pleased that you relented “Don’t worry – all of that’s locked away,” he then adds with a malicious tone “I’d have to distract you to get in.”

There’s a flush of heat across your back “So what – you can actually read everything about me if you just tried?” The notion triggers a little panic within you.

“You’d have to want it.” His purring tone is like soft silver.

“U-uh…” you stammer. You quickly look at your watch and see it’s getting later than you’d like “L-listen, I gotta lot to get through still.”

The devious mood doesn’t lift and you can feel Sans grinning.

Taking a breath, you steady your resolve and put your hands on your hips “Sans.” You speak firmly “You wanna see me later or not?”

There’s an instant change and the heaviness lifts “Oh r-right. Yeah of course.” Sans replies quickly and after an awkward pause he adds “Need some help?”

“No, I’m good.” You feel somewhat victorious at thwarting his cheeky boisterous flirting “Just leave me to it, m’kay?”

*******

“Would you _stop_ frigging laughing, you asshole!” you growl, vigorously brushing your hands through your hair again and again – sawdust is clumped in your hair and all across your work shirt.

Sans thinks your little accident with some unruly stacked bedding packets is more than a little funny and he instantly dived in with the jokes.

“Hey – hate to break it to ya but dust cloaks are out of fashion.”

“Shut it, dickweed.”

Sans puts his hands up in apology “Woah, I’m sorry – I thought you’d died in there, you took so long,” he starts helping pat you down “little did I know that you had actually bitten the dust.”

You shove him away “Sans!” you pout and then start walking home in an angry strop.

He quickly catches up to you, putting a hand on your back “Hey! I’m only kiddin’!”

The itching is so awfully bad – you stop still and scratch yourself raw “Fucking _hell_ I can’t wear this any longer!” you turn to Sans “Give me your jacket!” you snap, already trying to tug it off of him.

“W-wait a sec–”

You groan and swap to tearing off your work shirt, shaking as much dust off of it as you can, swatting it off your arms and torso “This stuff fucking sucks.”

The streetlight you’re next to illuminates you, lighting up your curves despite the more comical situation you’re currently in. After a moment, you register the cool breeze on your bare skin and quickly wrap your arms to cover your chest, whirling to face Sans.

“D-dude! Give me your jacket!” you manage to whimper, the embarrassment flaring to unbearable heights.

Sans is gaping at you, mouth open and head tilted.

You stare back, a rabbit in headlights – shivering from the late evening breeze.

After a moment, barely moving, he slides his jacket off slowly and hands it to you, taking a step closer.

You snatch it from him and tug it on – but he doesn’t let go: he’s against you, wrapping his jacket tightly around your shoulders and using it to pull you into a kiss. In the sudden fiery contact, you just about feel the bite of cold stone on the small of your bare back as he pushes you against a wall, but you’re too distracted to flinch.

One of Sans’ hands glides down your side and across your torso, gently marking your skin. You let out a gasp at his touch but he snatches your mouth back quickly, letting the tip of his tongue hover just close enough to your own that you can feel the humming of his magic.

He places his hand just beneath the wire of your bra, and starts to move up and under it until he’s cupping your breast – the full contact grounds you to the situation and you pull your mouth away, panting.

Sans’ tongue is just visible in a tantalising smile and it takes all you have to stay your resolve and look him square in the eyes.

“Really _not_ the time _or_ the place, Romeo.” You manage to dead pan, your heart betraying your façade by pounding so loudly that you know he can hear it.

A blush erupts on Sans’ face and his expression is one of shock “I-I-I uh… S-sorry.” He steps back and spins around, as if preserving your modesty is the only thing he wanted.

You can’t help but chuckle as you shrug on the strange skeleton’s jacket, the fluffy warm lining soft and welcome on your bare skin.

_How can you go from this all-encompassing devilish Casanova to some fumbling schoolboy…_

Feeling as though you have the upper-hand, you decide to play on it a little - you pat him on the back “C’mon you dork. Let’s go.”

He pulls his beanie over his face, smiling a big blushing smile and turns around “Shut up…”

You laugh and pull his hat up just enough to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Heh…”


End file.
